


sometimes love don't feel like it should

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [20]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, F/F, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 35,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “Listen,” Wynonna says, putting the pencil down. “Imagine if you had a girlfriend. We could go on double dates. Doc is going to get his Class 7-Learner’s permit soon-”“Well,” Doc tries.Wynonna ignores him. “And we can go driving and hang out and get sodas and listen to music.”Nicole scowls. “And I can’t do that if I don’t have a girlfriend?”





	1. just trying to give myself a little bit of fun

**Author's Note:**

> Nicole gets her first girlfriend and everything feels like “I Can’t Hold Back.” Featuring Wynonna’s requirements for Nicole’s girlfriend, Doc’s solidarity, a glaring absence of Waverly.
> 
> This takes place in the beginning of 1986. Nicole is 14 and Waverly is 13. For note, Doc and Shae are both 15, and Wynonna is 14. 
> 
> Side B will be posted next week.
> 
> Happy (early) Valentine's Day, y'all.

**"Hurts So Good" John Cougar, 1982  
** _ Sometimes love don’t feel like it should _

“ _ Take on meee _ ,” Jim Kerr sings. “ _ Take me onnnn.” _

Nicole taps her foot in the air, her legs hanging over the arm of the couch as she sings along softly. She turns her head, staring at the back of Wynonna’s. Doc and Wynonna are sitting on the floor, their backs against the couch. Nicole won’t let them sit with her because her legs are too long now - she hit a growth spurt this winter and she takes up too much room for all three of them to be sitting on the tiny loveseat in the McCreadys’ living room.

And she’s  _ not _ sitting on the floor.

“I do not understand the appeal of this song,” Doc mutters.

Nicole watches Wynonna’s shoulders shrug up and down. 

“Me either,” she admits. “But Nicole likes it.”

_ Waverly likes it, _ Nicole thinks.  _ And I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I had to put it on a tape _ .

Doc leans his head back against the cushion until he can see Nicole. “Why are we listening to such a travesty. My ears might begin to bleed.”

“If you bleed in this living room, Gus’ll blow her top.”

Doc’s eyes widen slightly. “That woman does terrify me.”

Nicole turns, her arm getting stuck under her body for a moment before she finally manages to get onto her stomach. “The next song is better,” she promises. From here, she can look down. Doc is holding Wynonna’s hand. She sighs heavily.

Wynonna snorts. “If it’s ‘Africa’ by Toto, I’m unspooling the entire cassette.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “It’s  _ not _ .”

“Africa” by Toto is on the mixtape she has at home, the one titled “Songs For Curtis” that she can’t quite make herself listen to a second time. It reminds her of the time they closed The Patch early, for Nicole’s birthday, and he picked the songs on the jukebox while they set everything up for the party. He used a spoon as a microphone and made Gus do a quickstep with him. 

Wynonna elbows Doc. “How come you never make me mixtapes?”

Doc frowns. “I built you 1987 Honda CR250 dirt bike engine.”

“It blew up before you could put it on my bike,” Wynonna reminds him.

“Well, I  _ assumed _ it was the thought that counted,” Doc grumbles.

Wynonna lets him glower for a minute before she laughs, sharp and loud in Nicole’s ear, and leans over, kissing him sloppily on the cheek.

Nicole turns her head, staring up at the ceiling. She doesn’t like Sunday afternoons when Gus takes Waverly to The Patch to help out. 

Sunday afternoons used to be her favorite day of the week: Gus and Curtis would go to The Patch and leave Nicole in charge of them. They would have Doc come over and sometimes - Chrissy, too - to listen to tapes and drink soda and try not to talk about how stupid Champ Hardy sounded in math class the other day. Waverly would always glare and then march out of the living room, muttering about how people can be good at one thing and not good at something else, until Nicole convinced her to come back and listen to whatever song she wanted.

She always chose something Nicole couldn’t stand, but she smiled, and Nicole liked that.

With Curtis gone, Waverly started tagging along to keep Gus company. Chrissy didn’t come over when Waverly wasn’t there, but Doc never missed a week. He knocked every time instead of coming inside like Nicole.  _ Like a gentleman _ , he told Nicole once when she yelled at him for making her get off the couch. They still do the same things: listen to tapes and drink all of Gus’s Orange Crush and now they get to talk about how dumb Champ and Pete and Kyle and Carl are, but it also means she’s the third wheel. 

Nathan had explained it to her. “A third wheel,” he repeated.

Nicole frowned. “What does that mean, though.”

“It  _ means _ ,” Nathan said, trying to nudge her out of his room. Perry was sitting on his bed, flipping through baseball cards. “That you’re tagging along and it’s annoying.” He pushed up on his tiptoes to shout over her. “Mom! Tell Nicole to leave us alone!”

Nicole look down again. Wynonna’s fingers are laced in Doc’s, their shoulders bumping together. Doc’s hat is sitting on the coffee table, pushed up against the stereo system. His hair is growing out and from here, she can see the start of a moustache just around the top of his lip.

She thinks he’d look funny with one.

A-Ha finally fades out and Duran Duran comes on with “Wild Boys.”

Doc sits up, nodding along instantly. “Now this is quality music,” he declares.

Wynonna laughs. “You’re the furthest thing from  _ wild _ I’ve ever met John Henry.”

Doc pushes up onto his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know, I have been invited to join the Blue Devils.”

Wynonna laughs harder. “You’re going to play sports?” She looks back over her shoulder at Nicole. “Can you imagine Doc? Playing  _ football _ ? In those pants?” Her eyes glaze over for a second before she shakes her head. “No way, you poser.”

Doc puffs his chest out and opens his leather jacket, pulling out a blue bandana. “No, the  _ Blue Devils _ .”

Wynonna snatches it out of his hand. “You’re joining the Blue Devils?”

Nicole sits up, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. “Doc, they’re…”

“Revered,” he says.

“The  _ tits _ ,” Wynonna adds.

“A force,” Doc continues.

“ _ Bitchin’ _ ,” Wynonna says.

“ _ Dangerous _ ,” Nicole interrupts. “They’re dangerous. They’re always hanging down at The Triangle and racing their cars and-” She stops herself. “Oh. They do everything you love to do.”

Doc grins widely. “Indeed they do.”

Wynonna walks her fingers up the front of Doc’s jacket. “You do look  _ fine _ in blue.”

Nicole pretends to gag, coughing loudly and rolling off the couch onto the floor. 

Wynonna lazily flips her off.

“I heard Nathan say that Jonas Adamson is with the Revenants now,” Nicole says.

Doc nods, his eyes narrowed and his mouth in a thin line. “Yes,” he says finally. “How I  _ loathe _ that boy.”

Wynonna looks expectantly at Nicole.

“Hates,” Nicole says.

Wynonna nods. “He’s a dickweed,” she agrees.

“Eloquent,” Nicole mutters. She takes a deep breath. “The Blue Devils are really dangerous,” she says again.

Doc looks at her for a moment before he nods. “I will do my best to stay out of danger.”

Nicole snorts. “No, you won’t.”

“I may not,” Doc agrees. “But I will try.”

Wynonna leans into Doc’s side, her hand sliding into the front of his jacket and across his chest. Nicole frowns and looks away as Wynonna pushes up onto her toes and kisses him.

When Waverly is here, they don’t do this as much. Mostly because Waverly will tell Gus, but also because Doc thinks he’s a gentleman and Waverly is too young to be seeing two people kiss. Nicole thinks that’s mental; Waverly loves romantic comedies and people kissing - she just thinks its gross when it’s  _ Wynonna _ doing the kissing.

Nicole does, too, but only because when they’re making out to Duran Duran, they don’t pay any attention to her and she’s stuck staring at the walls.

_ At least if Waverly was here, I could have someone to talk to _ , Nicole thinks. Waverly would roll her eyes at Wynonna and Doc and then drag Nicole upstairs to read an old issue of  _ Rolling Stone _ or make Nicole help her bedazzle something new that Waverly wants to make sparkle. If Waverly was here, she’d get Nicole another soda from the kitchen and then make Nicole pick out nail polish and Waverly would try each color on a different finger. If Waverly was here, Nicole could probably convince her to get the kitchen scissors out and trim the ends of Nicole’s hair, because they’re getting too long.

If Waverly was here, Nicole could curl up on one end of the couch and put her feet in Waverly’s lap and listen to her sing along to the stereo. 

“Wild Boys” ends and they’re still kissing, Wynonna’s fingers in Doc’s hair. They don’t look like they’re going to stop anytime soon; no Gus and no Waverly around to tell them to knock it off. Nicole narrows her eyes and stomps towards the stereo, her shoulder bumping against Wynonna’s as she tries to get by them.

She jabs her finger at the stereo, fast-forwarding the tape to the end of Side A so she can turn it over. Someone’s arms wrap around her waist, squeezing tightly and lifting her up off the ground.

“ _ Wynonna _ ,” she hisses.

Wynonna squeezes tighter. “You’re being a hoser. What’s your beef?”

Nicole tries to fit her fingers between her stomach and Wynonna’s arms but she can’t get them in enough to pry Wynonna’s hands away. Wynonna stumbles back a few steps and they crash back against the couch, falling sideways to the floor. Nicole goes down first, her face in the carpet. She tries to roll, but Wynonna is heavy. She wriggles one shoulder out from underneath Wynonna and rolls over.

Wynonna rolls with her.

Nicole grunts and tries to shift, but Wynonna sits down on her legs. “Get  _ off _ me, Wynonna.”

Wynonna shakes her head and shifts, her knees on either side of Nicole’s. “What’s your problem?”

Nicole bucks her hips, trying to dislodge Wynonna. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Yes, you do,” Wynonna says. She reaches forward, poking Nicole in the forehead. “You’re making the Waverly face.”

“The  _ Waverly face _ ,” Nicole repeats, going still.

Wynonna nods. “It’s the same face she makes when she’s all red about something.”

“I’m not red about nothing,” Nicole grumbles.

Wynonna jabs a finger into Nicole’s chest. “See? You are. Is it because Waverly isn’t here?”

_ Yes _ , Nicole thinks.

“No,” she hisses. 

Wynonna throws her head back and laughs. “Yes, you are. You’re mental because she blew us off to go hang out at The Patch.” 

“Whatever,” Nicole mumbles. “Can you just get off me? And go back to sucking Doc’s face,” she adds in a lower voice.

Wynonna’s face drops. “Oh,” she says quietly. She looks back over her shoulder, her face hidden from Nicole as she looks at Doc.

He startles a little, his arms and legs jerking as he straightens up. He nods and runs a hand through his slicked-back hair. “Well, I must go see a man about a horse,” he says, snapping around in a circle and marching up the stairs. 

Nicole doesn’t hear the bathroom door open and close, but his work boots stop and she’s sure if she went and looked, he’d be sitting at the top of the stairs, practicing twisting his Bustillos garage keys around his finger.

Wynonna sits back, her weight resting on Nicole’s ankles.

“What does that even mean?” Nicole asks. “The man and the horse thing.”

Wynonna shrugs. “I don’t know.” She reaches down, picking at some loose fabric on her jeans. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

Nicole frowns and pushes up onto her elbows. “For what?”

“Leaving you out.” Wynonna’s eyes widen. “Do you want to kiss him, too?”

Nicole feels her stomach roll and she swallows back a gag. “ _ No _ ,” she hisses.

Wynonna pauses. “Do you want to kiss  _ me _ ?”

Nicole scowls and kicks her legs, her knee catching Wynonna in the arm. “Get  _ off _ me, you space case.” She bucks up again and catches Wynonna off guard, knocking her to the ground.

“We need to get you a girlfriend,” Wynonna says from the floor. She turns her head, wrinkling her nose as she comes face-to-face with Nicole’s socked feet. 

Nicole sits up quickly, looking around the house.

Wynonna sits up, too, resting her hand on Nicole’s leg. “Hey, take a chill pill,” she says kindly. “No one is here.”

Nicole knows she’s right. She knows Waverly is at The Patch and can’t hear Wynonna say that Nicole needs a girlfriend. But there’s something about Wynonna saying it out loud, in the living room where Nicole listens to Waverly read  _ Rolling Stone _ and sing along to Madonna, that makes Nicole feel like maybe Waverly can hear them.

“I don’t need a…” She feels her face flush and she lowers her voice. “A girlfriend.”

“But girlfriends are the best,” Wynonna says confidently. “Just ask Doc. He loves having one.”

“I do,” Doc shouts from the top of the stairs.

Nicole groans and sinks back against the floor. 

Wynonna snaps her fingers excitedly. “We’re going to get you a girlfriend!” She stands up and marches towards the front hall. “Doc, come on! We’re going to get Nicole a girlfriend!”

Nicole stands, trying to grab for Wynonna. “Stop shouting that,” she growls.

Doc’s boots thud heavily as he comes down the stairs. “We’re doing what now?”

Wynonna grins widely and ducks out Nicole’s reach. “Operation Corvette Summer.”

Nicole shakes her head instantly. “No. No operation names. No operations.”

She shudders as she remembers Wynonna’s first big operation - Operation Houdini. It was supposed to be about learning how to juggle, but somehow, Nicole ended up with a Stockman 3-Blade Pocket Folding Knife in the top of her yellow and black Puma Clyde’s, right between her big and second toe.

She frowns. “Mark Hamill was better as Luke than Kenny.”

Wynonna is ignoring her, though. “We need to make a list of things Nicole wants in a girlfriend,” she tells Doc. “Go into the kitchen and get the pad and a pencil out of the junk drawer.”

Doc frowns. “The what?”

Nicole shakes her head at him. 

Wynonna sighs. “Do I have to do  _ everything _ around here?” She stomps into the kitchen, slamming drawers open and shut as she finds a pad of paper and something to write with. She comes back into the living room and goes right to the stereo, turning down “Burning For Love” by Bon Jovi. She pushes the coffee table back into the middle of the room, kneeling down next to it. She looks up expectantly at Nicole. “Well, come on.”

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m not doing this.”

“Listen,” Wynonna says, putting the pencil down. “Imagine if you had a girlfriend. We could go on double dates. Doc is going to get his Class 7-Learner’s permit soon-”

“Well,” Doc tries.

Wynonna ignores him. “And we can go driving and hang out and get sodas and listen to music.”

Nicole scowls. “And I can’t do that if I don’t have a girlfriend?”

Wynonna’s shoulders slump. “Well-”

“I can’t hang out with you anymore if I don’t have a girlfriend?” Nicole asks again.

“Of course you can,” Wynonna insists. “It’s just… Won’t it be more fun if you have someone to hold hands with during ‘Is This Love?’ than sitting by yourself?”

Nicole swallows, her throat dry.  _ Of course it would be _ , she thinks.  _ It would be nice to listen to all of those ballads and be thinking of someone _ . She sighs in defeat and Wynonna lets out a  _ whoop _ .

“Clutch,” Wynonna says. She pats the coffee table next to her, beckoning Nicole to sit down. “I’ll start a list.”

Nicole sits down on the edge of the couch, her elbows digging into her knees as she leans forward. Doc sits down next to her, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Nicole’s Girlfriend,” Wynonna writes at the top of the page. She taps the pencil against her lips.

“She has to like Orange Crush,” Doc volunteers.

Nicole shrugs. “If she doesn’t, there’s more for me,” she counters. 

Wynonna sticks her pencil into the air. “She has to be smart. But not, like,  _ dweeb _ smart.  _ Smart _ smart.”

Nicole opens her mouth, but Wynonna shushes her.

“The kind of smart where she knows really cool things and could help you win  _ Catchphrase _ if you ever made it on,” Wynonna continues.

“That show is over,” Doc points out.

Nicole opens her mouth again, but Wynonna talks over her.

“She has to be  _ smokin’ _ hot,” Wynonna adds, her eyes glazing over for a moment. “Like, Brigitte Bardot.” Wynonna sighs. “Curtis liked her.”

Nicole swallows heavily. It’s been a few months, but it still hurts when she breathes too deeply. She lets the pain flow into her chest and ebb out again before she speaks up. “Don’t I get to add anything?”

Wynonna frowns. “I don’t know…”

“It’s a girlfriend for  _ me _ ,” Nicole insists.

Wynonna sighs. “Fine. Okay. What do you have to add?”

Nicole chews on her bottom lip as she thinks. “She has to like music.”

“ _ Good _ music,” Wynonna expands. She writes it down. 

“Music we have to agree on,” Nicole explains.  _ Not like Waverly _ , she thinks.  _ No Wham! or Madonna _ .

Wynonna nods excitedly. “She has to read.”

Nicole frowns. “Read  _ what _ ?”

“I do like the  _ Ottawa Citizen _ ,” Doc interjects.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Tom Selleck.”

Doc instantly touches his fingers to the space above his lip where the stubble is just starting to grow in. His eyes sparkle and his cheeks flush. “You think I look like Tom Selleck?”

Nicole rolls her eyes and sticks her finger into her mouth, gagging.

Wynonna winks at Doc. “Not yet.”

Doc’s shoulders drop.

“But when you  _ do _ , you’ll be totally bitchin’,” Wynonna continues. She looks down at the list in her hand. “So, she has to read.”

“Yeah,” Nicole says. “Like,  _ Rolling Stone _ . And she has to know the stories I’ll like.”

Wynonna hums under her breath and adds that. “No bimbettes,” she says after a minute.

Nicole quickly shakes her head. “No.”

“Guess that means Stephanie Jones is off the list,” Wynonna grumbles.

“And Samantha Baker,” Nicole adds. She shrugs when Wynonna looks up at her. “Waverly says she’s  _ friendly _ .”

Wynonna snorts.

Nicole sinks back against the couch and sighs. “She has to like to ride her bike. And to go on adventures. She…” Nicole breathes in, letting the air out of her nose slowly. “She has to want to make the world better. And she has to like to hold hands. I want to hold hands.”

“No sweaty hands,” Wynonna says as she scribbles hastily.

Nicole barely hears her. “She has to know how music  _ feels _ . Even the bad songs. She has to like mixtapes and laughing.” She trails off, frowning at herself.

Wynonna snorts. “Man. This almost sounds like Waverly.”

Nicole’s stomach twists and tightens uncomfortably. She rips the piece of paper out of her hand. “What? No it doesn’t.” She scans the list, the back of her neck burning as she reads it over. She jabs her finger against the page. “See? It says we need to  _ agree _ on music. Waverly and I never do.”

Wynonna takes the paper back, nodding. “You’re right. She has the  _ most mental _ taste in music.”

“It’s the worst,” Nicole agrees.

Wynonna keeps nodding. “We definitely need to find you a girlfriend who likes-”

“Aerosmith,” Nicole says firmly. “She  _ has _ to like ‘Sweet Emotion’ or…” She shrugs, her hands smoothing down the front of the Aerosmith shirt she’s wearing. She’s been a little obsessed lately, putting at least one Aerosmith song on every mixtape she’s made.

Wynonna crosses out ‘ _ likes the same music _ ’ and writes ‘ _ must love Aerosmith _ ’ on the same line. “Oh!” she says loudly. She bends her head over the list and scribbles something else, her hair blocking Nicole’s view. She sits back and sticks it in Nicole’s fair. “There.”

“ _ Has to like Wynonna,” _ Nicole reads out loud. She snorts. “Then it’s definitely not Waverly.”

Saying it out loud turns her stomach over and makes her feel like she’s going to be sick.

Wynonna grins widely. “Exactamundo. I mean, honestly. That’s kind of gross, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nicole breathes out, the words a struggle to push past her lips.

“Because I’m pretty sure she’s stuck her tongue down Champ Hardy’s throat, and it would be like kissing  _ Champ _ ,” Wynonna continues.

Nicole gets a little lightheaded. She presses her hand to the back of her neck and tries to take a deep breath. The air sticks in her mouth and she can’t get it down into her lungs. 

Wynonna is already turned away from her, jabbing her finger at the stereo and stopping the tape. The sudden silence feels deafening. Doc is looking at her, his eyes narrowed and his mouth just barely open, like he has something to say. Wynonna’s hands slide around his waist and push into his front pocket, pulling out his switchblade. She flips it open and closed experimentally. 

Nicole takes a reflexive step backwards, a flash of phantom pain racing through her foot and up her leg.

“Let’s go,” Wynonna says. “We still have a few hours until Waverly closes up The Patch, and Gus said she was going to stay late and do the books, or whatever.”

“Go where?” Nicole asks.

Wynonna looks at her, tipping her head to the side. “To get you a girlfriend,” she says slowly.

“ _ Now _ ?” Nicole knows her voice breaks in the middle of that word, but the back of her neck feels like it’s burning and she can’t seem to move her feet.

Wynonna slips around Doc’s side, leaning back against him. She’s still flipping open his Edge Company Black Onyx Double Action OTF Switchblade Knife and closing it in quick succession. “Do you have something else to do?” she asks, laughing.

Nicole can come up with a hundred different things.  _ Iron my shirts, reread that Bruce Springsteen article from ‘84, go see Waverly at The Patch, make a mixtape _ . She pauses.  _ Make a mixtape. I need to make a mixtape _ .

“Like,” Wynonna continues. “Do you have other friends?” Her eyes harden for a moment. “Who are they?”

Nicole swallows heavily. “But I need to make a mixtape.”

Wynonna laughs louder. “That’s  _ not _ how you get a girlfriend.” She looks back over her shoulder at Doc. “Tell her how you got me.”

Doc smirks a little. “I do believe I asked you to kindly remove your foot from my throat.”

Wynonna sighs dreamily. “See? It’s that easy.”

Nicole shakes her head. “No, no.”

Wynonna sighs. “Come  _ on _ , noob. It’s just a girlfriend.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “Is Doc  _ just _ your boyfriend?”

“Well,” Wynonna starts. She sighs. “No.”

“Curtis said-”

Wynonna straightens up, flipping Doc’s switchblade closed with too much force. It slides out of her hand and skids across the carpet, landing close to Nicole’s feet. “I  _ know _ what Curtis said.”

Nicole can see the flicker of anger in Wynonna’s eyes, but Curtis’s lessons were important, and she’s not going to forget them just because Wynonna wants her to have a girlfriend. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares back at Wynonna, her lips pressed together. 

Wynonna gives first, sighing and reaching down for the switchblade. “ _ Fine _ ,” she says, dragging the word out. “I’ll let you make a mixtape. But not today,” she begs. “It takes you forever, and Gus’ll be home in a little bit, and-”

“You can’t  _ rush _ perfection,” Nicole says firmly.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Okay, Waverly.”

Nicole’s stomach flip-flops again. She feels the back of her neck burn.  _ Waverly _ , she thinks.  _ What am I going to tell Waverly _ ?

Wynonna grabs her arm and tugs. Nicole stumbles a few steps forward, clipping her leg on the couch. Doc winces.

“So, let’s just forget about the list for now, okay?” Wynonna says.

Nicole exhales in relief. “Yes,  _ please _ .”

Wynonna makes a big show of folding the paper in half and sliding it into her front pocket. Nicole tries not to panic or rip it out of her hands. She’ll just remind Wynonna at the end of the day that it’s there, in her pocket, and they don’t want it to go through the wash. They especially don’t want Waverly finding it when she goes through all of the pockets before doing the laundry. 

“Maybe we can just ride around and then go to The Patch and get some fries, or something.”

Nicole shakes her head. “Gus doesn’t want us bothering Waverly.”

“I didn’t say we were going to bother Waverly, did I?” There’s a glint in Wynonna’s eyes that tells Nicole she might not have said it, but it’s what she was planning on doing. She follows Wynonna out of the living room and into the front hall, pulling on her coat.

“Uh,” Doc starts. He holds out his hand. “My knife, darlin’. If you please.”

Wynonna smirks. “And if I don’t?”

Nicole pretends to gag and grabs for the switchblade, snatching it out of Wynonna’s hands. She carefully pulls back the fabric of Doc’s coat, sliding the knife into the inside pocket of his jacket. She turns, eyes narrowed at Wynonna, and places her hands on her hips.

Wynonna’s shoulders sag. “What a roller. If you ever get a girlfriend, she needs to know how much a narc you are.”

Nicole shrugs and stomps out the front door, shivering as the cold January air sneaks into the arms of her coat. Wynonna stumbles out the door behind her, clutching Doc. The roads are still clear, even if the lawns are covered in snow leftover from the Christmas snowstorm. She picks her bike up off the sidewalk, settling on the seat and easing down the driveway. She can hear Wynonna and Doc behind her, getting on their bikes and pedaling after her.

The winter breeze bites at the tips of her ears and the flats of her cheeks. It roars in her ears as she leans forward over the handlebars and pedals harder.

_ I don’t need a girlfriend _ , she thinks as she rides.  _ I don’t want a girlfriend _ . 

Another voice in her head tells her she  _ does _ want a girlfriend, but the girl she wants would never want her back.

She thinks about the look on Waverly’s face, the one that would be there if Nicole ever decided to tell Waverly how she feels. She fights against the burn in her eyes, but the tears and Waverly’s face cloud her vision. Waverly would hate her. Waverly would be disgusted. Waverly would take one look at her and laugh. Waverly would stop playing Nicole’s favorite songs on the jukebox and saving the last cold Orange Crush and...

“...Waverly!”

Nicole jerks the handlebars so hard that her front wheel almost rolls over on its side. She rights herself, looking back over her shoulder. “What?” she asks over the blood pounding in her ears. 

Wynonna frowns at her. “I said, ‘let’s go see Waverly’.” She pedals forward, coming up next to Nicole. “You okay?”

Nicole nods, her throat closing for a moment. “I’m fine,” she rasps. “I just… forgot you were riding behind me. You scared me.”

Wynonna keeps staring at her. “You’re mental, did you know that?”

“Must be, to be best friends with you,” Nicole mumbles just loud enough for Wynonna to hear. 

Wynonna grins widely and stands up on her pedals, spreading her arms wide. Her hair trails behind her and out of the corner of her eye, Nicole can see Doc looking at her, his eyes soft. 

“I want to rock!” she shouts

It takes Doc a minute, but he leans forward over the handlebars of his 1984 Hutch Trick Star. “Rock!”

Wynonna looks back over her shoulder at him and smiles. “I want to rock!”

Doc pumps his fist into the air. “Rock!”

“I want to rock!” Wynonna looks at Nicole expectantly.

Nicole rolls her eyes but straightens her legs and stands on her pedals, coasting. “Rock!”

“I want to rock!”

“Rock!” someone shouts from behind her.

Nicole hits her brakes, her back tire skidding across the blacktop as she comes to a stop. Wynonna stops next to her, and Doc slows to a crawl, his feet on the pavement on either side of the frame of his bike.

Shae Pressman smiles widely at them. “I love that song.”

Nicole feels her body relax, the tension draining from her shoulders. 

“You’ve returned. And in one piece,” Doc says.

Shae rolls her eyes. “It was just rock climbing with my dad.”

Nicole sits back on her seat, stretching her legs out near her front wheel. “You went rock climbing?”

Shae’s smile pulls just a little wider. “My dad took me to Goat’s Eye Mountain in Banff for the weekend. We came back a day early because the weather was totally grody.”

Wynonna groans. “That sounds like  _ the worst _ .”

Shae shrugs, still smiling. “I like it.”

“You and Nicole should go, then,” Wynonna says. “She loves climbing and swimming and all that mental stuff.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I’ve only ever climbed to the Top of the World,” she admits, thinking back to last summer when she needed some alone time. Waverly had been upset, demanding that she could come with Nicole and she wouldn’t make any noise, but Nicole shook her off and promised to come back later that night, after she got away for a little while.

“My dad called,” she finally admitted to Waverly.

Waverly had stopped trying to tag along after that. Instead, she emptied her bedazzled denim backpack of all the library books she took out and filled it back up with a few Orange Crush cans, some fluffernutter sandwiches, and a few of Curtis’s mixtapes. 

Nicole had ridden her bike out to the other side of Purgatory, the one headed away from the highway, and parked her Foiler at the bottom of a big hill. There was a hand-carved sign on a beaten path:  _ The Top of the World _ . She dug the fluffernutter sandwich Waverly made her out of her backpack and laid on the side of the hill and tried not to think about her dad calling.

“I don’t want to be a big sister,” she had told him.

Her dad sighed. “Princess, you’re going to-”

“And my name  _ isn’t _ Princess,” she growled.

Nicole scratches at the back of her neck absently and smiles sheepishly at Shae. “But I could see all of Purgatory from there. Even Lover’s Lane,” she adds excitedly. She chews on her bottom lip, embarrassed.

_ The Top of the World isn’t even cool _ , she scolds herself.  _ It’s an anthill compared to Goat’s Mountain _ .

“That’s wicked. I want to climb up there someday,” Shae says. She turns and looks at Wynonna and Doc. “Where’re you guys headed?”

Wynonna shrugs. “We were going to The Patch, but why don’t we go to Shorty’s instead?”

Doc immediately grins.

Nicole deflates. “But, we said we were going to see Waverly.”

“Waverly is your sister, right?” Shae asks. “I haven’t seen her around school.”

Wynonna waves a hand dismissively. “I know she  _ seems _ like a brainiac, but she’s still in eighth grade.” She glances at Nicole. “You see her all the time. We can skip one afternoon at The Patch.”

Nicole wants to argue, but Wynonna is right. She kicks at a loose patch of gravel and shrugs a shoulder. “Fine,” she mumbles.

“Want to come?” she hears Wynonna ask.

Shae hesitates. Nicole looks up, meeting her eyes.

“I assure you,” Doc starts. “We are not as mangy as Wynonna makes us out to be.”

“Gross,” Nicole says before Wynonna can ask.

“Rude,” Wynonna mutters.

“I mean, if it’s okay with you guys,” Shae says slowly, her eyes still on Nicole.

Nicole shrugs a shoulder, trying to fight off the odd sensation in her stomach. It almost feels the same as when Waverly smiles, but that doesn’t make any sense. Shae isn’t Waverly. “I’m down.”

Wynonna claps her hands loudly. Nicole startles, her bike leaning heavily one way.

“Let’s go, then. We’re just standing around like a bunch of Joanies with our thumbs stuck up our-”

Nicole shoves hard at Wynonna’s shoulder, cutting her off.

Wynonna pushes forward, pedaling lazily. She jabs her finger in Nicole’s direction. “I’m not dressing up because we have company,” she warns, nodding in Shae’s direction.

“Right,” Nicole drags out. “Why act like civilized human beings when we can just kirk out?” She swerves to the right as Wynonna aims her front tire at the back of Nicole’s bike. Wynonna continues past her, grinning and pulling alongside Doc as they pedal ahead.

Shae rides up next to her, pedaling alongside her easily. She looks over at Nicole and smiles. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

_ No _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Waverly and Wynonna wouldn’t say anything for most of the day and Gus went to The Patch and I accidentally played The Eagles instead of Motley Crüe and my dad didn’t call and my mom picked up the holiday shift _ .

Instead, she shrugs. “Did you?”

“I got a new bike,” Shae says, sweeping her hand along the length of the frame of the shiny yellow 1985 Procraft Ultima XL. 

Nicole looks down at her Foiler, frowning softly. It’s a good bike that gets her around, but it’s old and it used to belong to Nathan.

“Oh, and my dad finally got me the August 15th, 1985  _ Rolling Stone  _ issue, the one with-”

“The Live Aid 1985: The Day the World Rocked cover,” Nicole finishes excitedly.

Shae’s eyes widen. “You know it?”

“I  _ have _ it,” Nicole breathes out. She looks up and just barely makes the turn onto Main Street, grinning at Shae over her shoulder. They pull up to Shorty’s, and Nicole slots her front tire into the bike rack. “Waverly buys us the subscription for Christmas, and it’s one of my  _ favorites _ . I don’t even like Madonna, but I wish I could have been at that concert.”

Shae groans, smiling. “I can’t  _ stand _ Madonna.” She looks around, but Doc and Wynonna and standing on each other’s toes and whispering back and forth. “Actually,” Shae admits, her breath ghosting against Nicole’s cheek. “I do kind of like Sting.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Do you like Sting, or The Police?”

Shae leans in even more. “ _ Both _ .”

“Kung Fu Master is open!” Wynonna shouts, her face pressed against the glass window. She reaches back blindly for someone, finding Nicole’s arm, and tugs hard. “Come on, come on.” She glances at the bike rack and grimaces at the matching 1983 SE Racing Quadrangles. “Hardy and the Chumps are here, and I’m not losing the machine to them like last time.”

Nicole glances across the street, her eyes finding the neon tomato sign easily. She squints, wondering if the shadow moving across the dining room is really Waverly or not. She thinks about how this morning, she helped Waverly find her second boot and promised she’d stop by The Patch later. Wynonna tugs again and Nicole stumbles over the sidewalk before tripping across the threshold and into Shorty’s.

The kid behind the counter has “Let’s Dance” on and the neon lights are bright and blazing. Wynonna leads them through the crowd of high school students Nicole recognizes from Nathan’s baseball games. She can’t remember if she saw her brother’s ‘84 Patterson PR-200 outside on the long bike rack that stretches across the front of the building, but she thinks she sees all twelve of Perry Crofte’s popped, neon collars, so he can’t be far. 

There’s some younger kids, too, hanging on the fringes of the arcade games, watching the older kids feed token after token into the machines. She spots Champ and the York brothers easily from across the room, hooting and hollering while Stephanie Jones hangs off of Champ’s shoulder. Nicole scowls a little bit as Stephanie’s lips brush a little too close to Champ’s cheek. Samantha Baker giggles loudly, the pitch high enough for Nicole to hear over the dull roar of David Bowie. 

Wynonna moves like an arrow through the crowd, eyes locked on Kung Fu Master. She slams her hand down on it when she reaches it. “Dibs!” she shouts.

“Good for you, noob,” someone two machines over shouts back.

Wynonna sticks her tongue out in his direction.

Doc leans against the machine, fishing into his pocket for some loose bills. He hands it to Wynonna. “I’ll save the game.”

Wynonna takes the bill and hands it to Nicole. “I’ll save your spot.”

“Wynonna,” Nicole groans.

“I’ll come with you,” Shae offers.

“Shae will go with you,” Wynonna repeats. “I can’t leave Doc by himself. What if someone comes and gives him a hard time?”

Nicole rolls her eyes.

“He needs a strong woman to protect him,” Wynonna continues.

Doc nods solemnly. “This is true, yes.”

Nicole flicks him in the shoulder and he staggers back, his eyes wide.

“Wynonna,” he gasps.

Wynonna reaches over and flicks him in the forehead.

Nicole turns and pushes through the crowd, heading towards the token machine. She feels a hand at her back and she turns quickly, hand up in defense.

Shae laughs lightly, her hand hot through Nicole’s white shirt. “Sorry. I just almost lost you in the crowd.”

Someone bumps into Nicole from behind, pushing her a step forward. Shae’s hand gets trapped, her fingers spread out against Nicole’s side. 

“Sorry,” Nicole murmurs. “You didn’t have to come with me.”

Shae snorts. “And get stuck with that?” she asks, nodding back in the direction of the Kung Fu Master machine. “Do they always do that?”

Nicole looks over Shae’s shoulder and grimaces. Wynonna has Doc pressed against the side of the game, his hat tipped low over their faces as they kiss. She sighs. “Unfortunately,” she mutters. She looks up at Shae, meeting her eyes, and then looks away, just to the right of Shae’s ear. “Waverly is always complaining about it because usually we’ll be in the middle of listening to a new cassette and they just disappear somewhere to make out. But then they get mad when we don’t stop the tape and we end up having to listen to it all over again.” 

“You guys hang out a lot?” 

The song changes and “Tell Her About It” comes on. Nicole jumps a little at the sound of Billy Joel replacing David Bowie. 

“ _ Listen boy, don't want to see you let a good thing slip away _ .”

“What?” Nicole asks.

“I said, do you guys hang out a lot?”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes out. “I mean, Wynonna is my best friend.”

“And best friend’s little sisters just kind of tag along, right?” Shae smiles sympathetically. “I was friends with a girl, and her little brother was  _ always _ trying to come with us or listen to our conversations.”

Nicole shakes her head. “No, Waverly is…”

_ I think she’s everything _ , a voice inside her says. She pushes that voice down, though, and shrugs, afraid of what’s going to come out if she opens her mouth.

Shae tips her head to the side. She opens her mouth, but someone bumps into her from behind.

Nicole reaches out, both hands on Shae’s waist as she tries to keep her upright. “Uh…”

Shae’s eyes flicker down. “What?” she asks quietly.

Nicole forces her hand up between their bodies, holding the bill Doc gave her between her fingers. “Tokens.”

“Oh. Oh!” Shae takes a large step back, nodding furiously. “Right. Let’s go get them before Shorty kicks Doc and Wynonna out, for being…”

“Grody to the max,” Nicole grumbles.

Shae laughs. “That’s a good one.”

_ Waverly said it first _ , Nicole thinks. 

They wait in line behind a few kids Nicole recognizes - Jimmy Byers and Vinnie the Vulture and a kid named Malcolm Ramaker with an eyepatch on. She can see the red bandanas sticking out of the pockets of their leather jackets and jeans. _Revenants_ , Nicole thinks. Her eyes dart back to the Kung Fu Master machine. Doc isn’t a Blue Devil yet, but he’s loyal. And if Wyatt Aper invited him in, Doc’s already pledged his allegiance. 

Vinnie looks Shae up and down as he leans against the token machine, Jimmy feeding bills into it and getting tokens back. Nicole scowls at him and steps forward, shifting in front of Shae and staring him down.

“Freshmen,” Vinnie scoffs Jimmy gets his tokens and they start walking away.

Nicole holds the bill out to Shae and stands against the machine, her attention on Vinnie while Shae gets tokens. She can hear the  _ clink clink clink _ of the tokens coming down through the machine, but she keeps her eyes on Vinnie until she loses him in the crowd. She feels a hand on her wrist and knows it’s Shae, but she keeps glaring into the neon lights and the sea of people, as if glaring will keep the Revenants away.

Slim fingers loop around her wrist and tug. Nicole looks down at their hands and her stomach sloshes back and forth. Shae pulls her back through the crowd, past Vinnie leering at them, and over to Kung Fu Master.

“That took  _ forever _ ,” Wynonna complains. She holds out her hand expectantly, her eyes skipping over Shae and landing on Nicole.

Nicole can feel them burning through her skin as Wynonna’s eyes move down Nicole’s face, over her shoulder, and down her arm, coming to a stop where Shae’s fingers are still wrapped around her wrist. Wynonna looks back up, an eyebrow raised. Nicole shrugs back at her and it moves her arm enough that Shae looks down, flushes, and lets go.

Nicole drops the tokens into Wynonna’s hand, looking past Wynonna and at the Kung Fu Master start screen. Wynonna stares at her for a minute longer before shrugging and turning towards the machine, a token ready.

“Want to see if you can beat me?” Shae asks, nodding at the next machine over.

Nicole scoffs. “Please. I’m, like, Marble Madness champ.” She points at the top scores page as it flashes on the screen. “That’s me, right there,” she says. 

“NMH,” Shae reads. “Number ten.”

“I  _ was _ nine,” Nicole grumbles. She drags her finger further up the screen, landing at the four spot. “But the  _ one _ time I let Waverly take my turn, she almost knocked me off the leaderboard.” 

Shae smiles softly, her hand resting on Nicole’s shoulder. She squeezes gently. “I bet if you try again, you’ll make it back to the ninth spot.”

Nicole shrugs. “I don’t have any tokens, anyway. So-”

Shae holds up a token. “I got a few of my own,” she says.

Nicole frowns. “When?”

Shae laughs. “You were too busy glaring at Vinnie to notice.”

“Vinnie?” Wynonna asks, turning around. “Like, Vinnie the Vulture?”

Nicole scowls. “And the rest of those meatheads.”

“Revenants?” Doc straightens up, tipping his hat back on his forehead to scan the crowd. He puffs out his chest and folds one side of his jacket back, his hand going to the inside pocket where Nicole stashed his switchblade. “Where?”

Wynonna puts her hand over Doc’s, sliding the end of the switchblade back down into the fabric of his coat. “Down, Cujo.”

The tension fades from Doc’s shoulders, but he still leans sideways against Kung Fu Master and only gives Wynonna half of his attention, scanning the busy arcade for any sign of the Revenants.

Wynonna sighs loudly. “You know what, Kung Fu Master is lame.”

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “But you  _ love _ this game.”

Wynonna shrugs a shoulder carelessly. “I think I want to play Professor Pac-Man instead.”

“Oh,” Shae says, her shoulders dropping. She looks at Marble Madness, and then across the room at Professor Pac-Man. “Well, sure. We can go over there.”

Wynonna quickly shakes her head. “No way. You two stay here. Play Marble Madness.” She looks at Shae. “Kick her-”

“Language,” Nicole says quickly. Her voice is high and makes a weird squeaking noise when she speaks.

Shae hesitates, her hand flexing on Nicole’s shoulder before dropping to her side. “Are you sure?”

“ _ Totally _ ,” Wynonna says, nodding. “You two crazy kids hang here. Doc and I are probably going to make out anyway.”

Doc straightens up a little. “By all means, lead the way.”

Shae leans in to shove at Doc playfully.

“Wynonna, no,” Nicole hisses.

Wynonna taps her pocket, the one she shoved the list into. “I have a plan.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Wynonna,  _ no _ .”

“Yes,” Wynonna whispers back. “Come on, Doc,” she says louder.

Shae waves at them. “We’ll be right here,” she says, turning towards Marble Madness.

Nicole reaches out for Wynonna, her arm falling back to her side uselessly. “But-”

Wynonna catches her eye over Shae’s shoulder and gives her a thumbs up.

Nicole starts to panic. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears and a voice in her head that screams Wynonna thinks she’s doing her a favor, but this is going to backfire. Just like the time she convinced Nicole that PF Flyers had wings and she really could fly if she jumped down from the small shed in the McCreadys’ yard. Or the time Wynonna promised that Gus said it was okay if they dug up her flowers to give to Old Bumblebear after she fell in her driveway. Or the time she made Nicole climb out onto the roof, even though she was afraid of heights.

Shae turns to the Marble Madness and positions a token in the coin slot. “Are you ready to be terminated?”

Nicole is shaking her head at Wynonna, mouthing  _ no no no _ , and doesn’t realize Shae is talking to her at first. She feels a warm hand on her shoulder and she jumps, twisting her body away from the touch. 

“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry,” Shae says immediately. “I thought you heard me talking, and-”

Nicole’s eyes widen. She can hear Wynonna snicker somewhere over her shoulder. “It’s okay. I just… wasn’t paying attention.  _ I’m _ sorry.”

Shae smiles, bright in the dim lighting of Shorty’s. She dips her head forward, looking up at Nicole through her eyelashes. Nicole swallows heavily. Shae’s hand lands back on her shoulder, lighter this time. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Nicole glances back across the arcade, notices Wynonna has already bailed, and nods. “I’m cool.”

Shae laughs softly and kicks at the corner of the machine. “Yeah, you are.”

“Tell Her About It” cuts abruptly, and there’s a ten second lull of ringing bells and rubber wheels against the hardwood skating rink.  _ Shae’s eyes are brown _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Like the color of the Red Wing Irish Setters in the Sears catalog _ .

Madonna’s “Material Girl” comes on and they both groan at the same time.

“I can’t stand this song,” Shae complains.

Nicole instantly nods. “Waverly listens to it  _ all _ the time.”

Shae’s lips twitch and her nose wrinkles briefly, but Nicole blinks and then she’s smiling again, swinging her hand forward and brushing her fingertips against Nicole’s hand.

“Want another reason to hate it?” Shae asks. “Because I’m going to totally beat you at this game while this song is playing.”

Nicole snorts, grabbing a token out of Shae’s hand and dropping it into the coin slot. “You can try,” she challenges.

Shae laughs and puts her own token in, resting the tips of her fingers on the track pad. “Winner gets…” She trails off, looking at Nicole expectantly.

“A milkshake,” Nicole finally decides. “But just so you know, I like mine with extra whip cream.”

“And I like mine with a cherry,” Shae fires back.

Marble Madness beeps twice, the first level screen loading up as the instructions scroll past them.

Shae sways towards her, bumping their shoulders together, and grins.

Nicole’s stomach twists and she looks away.

 

-

Shae leans forward, her elbows digging into her knees. “So, explain it again?”

Nicole takes a sip from the fountain soda cup she’s holding before she passes it back to Shae. Shae holds it between her hands, her lips wrapping around the straw. Nicole watches her sip Orange Crush before a whistle blows and she blinks.

“Explain what?” she asks.

Shae sweeps her arm out in front of her body. “Hockey,” she says.

Nicole groans and drops her head into her hand, but when she looks up, she’s smiling. “I explained everything at the last game.” She blows on her hands, trying to warm them up.

Shae shrugs a shoulder. “I forgot.”

“It’s because you weren’t listening.”

“It’s because as soon as you finished explaining it, you started ranting about why  _ Vital Signs _ is the best Survivor album and I forgot all about the rules of hockey,” Shae corrects. 

Nicole’s face flushes. “I didn’t rant,” she says weakly.

Shae leans in a little closer, the puff of fabric on the top of her winter hat bumping against the wool of Nicole’s hat. “I didn’t say I minded it.”

Nicole swallows heavily. “I’m just saying,” she starts, wetting her bottom lip. “That ‘I Can’t Hold Back’ is one of the-”

“Greatest songs of our generation,” Shae finishes. “I remember.” She sits back, stretching her legs out onto the bleacher row in front of them, her elbows on the bench behind them. “But you’re wrong. Black Sabbath’s  _ Heaven and Hell _ is better.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “You need to stop spending so much time with Doc. He’s starting to rub off on you.”

“And who should I spend time with instead?” Shae asks, her eyes sparkling.

“Me,” Nicole says, her voice sure. Her stomach twists as she breathes out the word.

Shae’s body inches closer. “I can make that happen.”

Nicole feels her body sway in Shae’s direction. “I think you already are,” she says quietly.

It’s been a week since the afternoon at the arcade, and she’s spent every day with Shae since. On Sunday, they lost Wynonna and Doc in the crowd, and after searching for them for three songs, decided to stop looking. Shae offered to buy her the milkshake she promised, but Nicole had seen Waverly’s shadow in the window again and shook her head. 

“You could come over,” Nicole offered instead. 

There was something about Shae that made Nicole want to more know, but she wanted to learn it on her own. She didn’t want to take her to The Patch and have to answer all of Waverly’s one thousand questions. She wanted to talk about music with someone who liked Van Halen as much as her. She wanted to show Shae the pile of Orange Crush she had stashed in the back of fridge, behind the broccoli Nathan would never touch. She wanted to spend more time with Shae, and it made her nervous. 

Shae peered at her, eyes narrowed for a moment. “Really?”

Nicole shrugged self-consciously, wishing she could take it back. Instead, she swallowed heavily and nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted. “If you want to.”

“You don’t want to go to The Patch?” Shae asked, looking over her shoulder at the diner. 

A crowd of kids pushed at each other as they pulled open the door to The Patch. Nicole could see Champ, the Yorks, Carl Junger, Stephanie Jones, and Samantha Baker in the window booth.

“No,” Nicole said, the honesty surprising her. She didn’t want to take Shae there.

She didn’t know what to do with that thought - to keep Shae hidden away from Waverly and Wynonna’s prying eyes and endless questions - but she pushed it aside and biked to her house, her hands sweating despite the chill in the air.

Her mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway. She worked the double shift on Sundays, for time and a half, and didn’t get home until after Nathan’s curfew. There was a note on the refrigerator about the casserole for dinner, but Nicole ignored it and grabbed them each a cold soda. She dropped hers and picked it up quickly, opening it before thinking about it. It sprayed all over her white shirt, turning it orange in some spots and sticking to her skin.

“Oh, shiz nits,” she hissed, reaching for the hem of her shirt. She pulled it away from her skin and backed up out of the kitchen. “Two minutes. I’ll be-” She tripped over the arm of the couch. “One minute.”

She stood in front of her mirror in her bra, one of Nathan’s old Iron Maiden shirts in her hand.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” she asked herself. “Stop being a total noob and go downstairs.”

She pulled the Iron Maiden shirt over her head and combed her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth down the flyaways. She tucked her shirt in and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She frowned and untucked it again. She rolled one sleeve up too high and had to start over.

She didn’t understand the feeling in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t anger and it wasn’t fear and it wasn’t Waverly.

_ Maybe it’s Shae _ , she thought.

Shae was sitting at the kitchen table when Nicole got back into the kitchen, sipping slowly from her can of Orange Crush and thumbing through the  _ Ottawa Citizen _ . She looked up and smiled as Nicole lingered in the doorway.

“Hey,” Nicole said.

“Hey,” Shae echoed.

Nicole hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “We have a stereo,” she said. “It’s not much. It belonged to my dad, and we haven’t gotten a new one since he-” She stopped herself and shrugged a shoulder. “It still plays tapes.”

Shae stood up, smiling still. “I like tapes.”

Nicole scanned the shelves of tapes her dad left behind, trying to find one she knew Shae would like. She settled on Foreigner’s  _ Double Vision _ , popping it into her dad’s old 1978 Technics RS-M10. She dragged a finger along the smooth silver surface and pressed play.

They spent the rest of the day laying on the living room floor, singing along with Lou Gramm and laughing until Nicole’s stomach ached for a whole other reason.

A loud cheer comes from the other side of the rink and Nicole jumps a little, blinking.

Shae laughs. “There you are. You went all…” She rests her hand on Nicole’s arm. “You went all spacey.”

Nicole can’t feel Shae’s hands through her coat, but her face flushes anyway. “Sorry. Where were we?”

“Hockey,” Shae reminds her. “You were going to tell me the rules.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “And I told you, I already said what they were.”

“And I told  _ you _ that-”

“We get it,” someone cuts in from behind them. “You already told her the rules. She already forgot them.” The boy snorts. “Girls are so mental.”

Nicole starts to stand up, jaw clenched, but Shae’s grip tightens on her arm and keeps her in her seat.

“Forget about him,” Shae tells her. “He’s a hoser,” she says loudly.

“ _ You’re _ a hoser,” Nicole mumbled, her lip curling up in one corner.

Shae grins at her and the grip she has on Nicole’s arm loosens, but she doesn’t move her hand. 

Last Monday, Nicole had biked to school with Wynonna and Waverly like usual. In the morning, she stomped into the house, hollered  _ hi _ to Gus, and took the stairs two at a time towards Wynonna’s room. She jumped on top of Wynonna’s comforter, landing on her and grinning when she heard the grunt of pain.

“Get  _ off _ me,” Wynonna grumbled from under the covers.

Nicole pulled at the fabric until she found Wynonna’s face, pushing Wynonna’s hair out of the way. “Listen to me.”

“It’s  _ early _ ,” Wynonna whined.

“It’s a school day,” Nicole reminded her. “But listen to me.”

Wynonna sat up, her eyes suddenly clear. “Wait a minute. You totally bailed on us yesterday.”

Nicole shifted back, sitting on Wynonna’s legs. “ _ Listen _ ,” she hissed. “Don’t tell anyone about it, okay?”

The orange juice she had with breakfast curls in her stomach and burns her throat as it threatens to come back up. She woke up this morning sweating, wondering what she was going to say to Waverly and Wynonna about how she spent Sunday night on her living room floor with Shae, listening to all the music Wynonna doesn’t want to hear again and Waverly doesn’t like. She couldn’t fall back asleep, Shae’s laugh echoing in her mind.

_ Wynonna might laugh at me _ , a voice said.  _ Waverly… Waverly might hate me _ .

“What?” Wynonna asked.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Nicole begged. “Don’t tell Doc or-or Waverly. Not yet. I don’t…”

Wynonna opened her mouth, but paused. Her eyes scanned Nicole’s face, and she slowly closed her mouth, shaking her head. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said quietly.

“Scout’s honor?” Nicole asked in a whisper. 

Wynonna held up three fingers silently.

“Where’s the list?” Nicole asked. 

Wynonna pointed at the jeans she wore the day before. Nicole rolled off of her and picked the pants up, rooting through the pockets until she found the note. She pulled it out of Wynonna’s jeans and shoved it into her own pocket, as far down as it could go. 

Her chest felt a little lighter.

Wynonna pushed her hair out of her eyes again. “Did you…” She lowered her voice. “Did you have fun?”

Nicole looked up, unable to hide the smile on her face.

Wynonna  _ whooped _ and threw herself back against the pillows.

She pulled open Wynonna’s bedroom door and came face-to-face with Waverly.

“You didn’t come see my yesterday,” Waverly accused, jabbing her finger into Nicole’s chest.

Nicole rubbed at the sore spot. “I had to go home. My mom needed me to… mop.”

Waverly’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. You should have called. Bobo made you fries. I would have brought them over.”

Nicole felt the back of her neck start to itch. “Sorry,” she breathed out.

Waverly smiled and shrugged. “No problemo. Want to get a head start?” She peered around Nicole’s shoulder, at Wynonna still slumped back against the bed. “She looks like the girl from  _ Evil Dead _ .”

Nicole snorted. “You never even watched that movie.”

“Not  _ yet _ ,” Waverly corrected, turning and heading down the stairs. “I’m still waiting for you to watch it with me so you can protect me from the scary parts.”

Nicole almost tripped over thin air.

“Okay,” Shae says. “I think I understand.”

Nicole grins. “Oh, yeah?”

Shae nods seriously. “Yes. They’re all Bambi, fumbling around on their skates out there. But the big question is, who is Thumper?”

Nicole throws her head back and laughs, immediately pointing at her brother on the defensive line. “Nathan. Nathan is Thumper.”

Shae grins. “I agree. For a second, I almost would call him Flower, but-”

Nicole shakes her head. “No way,” she interrupts. “That’s totally Champ,” she decides, pointing at the center on the other team. “A skunk? Totally Champ.”

Shae nods. “For sure.” She wrinkles her nose. “Everything about him  _ stinks _ .”

Nicole scowled. “Especially that he’s, like, seeing Waverly. Or something,” she adds, the words tasting funny in her mouth.

Shae frowns. “Really? He’s always hanging around Stephanie Jones.”

Nicole scans the crowd, spotting Stephanie easily in the large group of Purgatory High School students watching the Saturday league game. She’s in a sweatshirt that looks too big for her and has a big ‘C’ on the shoulder. Nicole doesn’t know Champ’s football number, but she bets it’s probably 12; the same number on Stephanie’s oversized Purgatory Football sweatshirt.

Nicole scowls. “He’s a piece of-”

The crowd cheers as Champ makes a breakaway, bearing down on Nathan in the defensive end. He dangles the puck on the left and jukes to the right, skating in a circle around Nathan before getting too flashy and losing the puck in the corner boards.

Nicole claps loudly and grins at Shae.

Shae had found her during lunch, nodding at the empty seat next to Nicole with a hopeful look. Nicole slid further down the bench and cleared a space on the table so Shae could put her tray down. 

“You’re in the same hallway as me during third period,” Shae said as she bit into her hamburger. “Math, right by the second floor bathrooms.”

Nicole grinned. “I think I saw you during first period, too.”

Shae reached for the bag of chips on Nicole’s tray, pausing for a second before Nicole nodded. She took a few chips and dropped them on her own tray. “I have English with Pocket first thing in the morning.

Nicole winced at the mention of Ms. Pocket. “My brother, Nathan, had her last year.”

“I like her,” Shae said decisively. “She just expects you to do the work.”

Nicole laughed and reached for a ketchup packet on Shae’s tray. “That explains why Nathan never liked her. He never does any work.”

The rest of the table filled up - Wynonna and Doc and Mercedes Gardner all dropping their trays down and starting a conversation Nicole didn’t tune into. She kept her attention on Shae, listening to her talk about Ms. Pocket’s latest assignment.

She still felt off-balance. Shae’s smile was big, and her eyes were wide and honest. Nicole felt like she did the time she convinced her dad to take her out on a canoe the only summer he let her tag along on his and Nathan’s fishing trip. The whole wooden canoe had rocked underneath her and five minutes in, she forgot she couldn’t just stand up, and she went overboard.

Her dad fished her out of the water and dropped her into the canoe, launching into a lecture about lake safety and how she needed to be more careful. Nathan laughed the whole hour car ride home and wouldn’t let her pick the music.

“Oh!” Shae said suddenly, reaching under the bench for her backpack. She unzipped the largest pocket and pulled something out, pushing her tray out of the way to make space. “I brought something for you to read.”

Nicole stared down at table, eyes wide. “Is this the-”

“February 22, 1979  _ Rolling Stone _ , with the article about The Blues Brothers?” Shae finished. “Most definitely.” She hesitated. “You wanted to reread it, right?” 

Nicole nodded furiously. “Wynonna lost it.”

Shae nudged the magazine in her direction. “So let’s read it together. And maybe…” She picked at the bag of chips on Nicole’s tray. “Maybe you want to come over after school and I can show you the other issues I have? My dad has almost  _ all _ of them, but only if-”

Nicole dropped her hand over Shae’s, their fingers sliding together clumsily. “Most definitely,” she repeats.

It wasn’t until she was four issues in, pressed against Shae’s side in the small alcove in her room with Blondie’s  _ Parallel Lines _ on Shae’s 1983 Panasonic RX-5050 boombox, that she remembered she was supposed to help Waverly with inventory at The Patch that afternoon. 

“Can you two just motor if you’re going to talk the whole game?” the boy behind them asks, interrupting Nicole’s train of thought.

Nicole turns around, eyes narrowed. “This isn’t the  _ ballet _ . This is a  _ hockey game _ .”

“You’re annoying,” the kid says.

Nicole rolls her eyes. “ _ That’s _ all you have?” She stands up and puts one foot on the next bleacher up. “Listen to me, you-”

Shae laughs and stands up, tugging at Nicole’s arm. “Come on,” she says, cutting Nicole off. “There’s a spot around the back gate where we can sit.” She pats the pocket of her winter jacket. “I have my Walkman and  _ Vital Signs _ .”

Nicole turns quickly, scowling at the boy. 

He scoffs. “Lucky your girlfriend stopped you,” he says and looks past her. Nicole watches him scoot back a few inches, putting more distance between them. 

Nicole lets Shae pull her down the stands to the rinkside. When they get to the bottom of the stairs, Shae’s hand slides down her arm, over her wrist, and settles in her hand. Their fingers lace easily. Nicole feels a surge of something warm spark through her body. She licks her lips as the referee calls time-out. The man in the score booth puts on “Start Me Up” by The Rolling Stones.

Shae sat with her at lunch on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. They traded lunch items and counted up all their spare change to split an Orange Crush. Nicole spent the whole half-hour ignoring the looks Wynonna sent her way, leaning in to listen to the song playing on Shae’s Walkman instead. 

At the end of the day, Nicole pulled her Foiler off the bike rack and followed Shae’s Procraft through the streets of Purgatory until they got to Shae’s house. They pulled down whatever issue of  _ Rolling Stone _ they wanted to read, cracked open a fresh Orange Crush, and sat pressed together on Shae’s living room couch, their knees and hands brushing every time they turned the page of the magazine.

She laid in bed nearly every night, listening to the mixtape she made called “More Than A Feeling,” and wondering why Shae made her feel like the tips of her fingers had just touched a hot stove and come away unburned. Shae made her feel like she could climb to the top of Goat’s Mountain barefoot and jump off the top and fly. 

It wasn’t like “Love Walks In.” It wasn’t like Waverly. It was  _ Shae _ and it was different songs and it was a different feeling, in a different part of her stomach and her chest. It wasn’t Van Halen and cheer pom poms. It was songs they both knew the words to and  _ Rolling Stone _ and pyramids of cans of Orange Crush they threw wads of paper at like a fair game.

It didn’t feel like  _ Waverly, _ and Nicole laid in bed and tried to figure how that was supposed to work. How could she feel the way she felt about Waverly, but also feel the way she did about Shae? 

_ How long can I avoid Waverly until she gets mad again _ ?

She rolled over and tucked her hand under her pillow, feeling the hard edge of the cassette she stashed there, the one with all the songs she knows that sound like Waverly. She tucked it under there on Sunday, when Shae came over, trying to hide  _ Waverly _ scribbled across the front of the case. 

_ Waverly will find out what’s going on eventually _ , she thought. But a selfish part of Nicole wanted to keep Shae to herself just a little longer, just to have someone that was hers and only hers; something Waverly wasn’t a part of.

So she ignored Waverly’s questions every morning, and tried to get out of the center of town each afternoon before Waverly caught up to them. She rode home through the streetlights, singing “Hold On Loosely” and “The Party’s Over (Hopelessly In Love)” and “Shake It Up” as she looped lazily through the pools of light. She spent math class making playlists for the mixtapes she was going to teach Shae how to make. She ducked out of The Patch early on the nights she did go, avoiding Waverly’s eyes and slipping past Gus with a quiet ‘thank you’ for the basket of fries in her hands.

She split the fries with Shae and changed the tape when “You Really Got Me” came on.

She laid in bed every night and catalogued every one of Shae’s smiles and every laugh and wondered if they were because of her.

Nicole follows Shae around the curve of the ice, her hand jerking in Shae’s as they slip past the ‘Do Not Enter’ cones and the doors where the Zamboni goes on and off the ice. They go behind the net and in the back corner, there’s a broken bench, the end sawed off and sanded down. Shae sits at one end and pats the empty space next to her.

“How did you know about this?” Nicole asks as she sits down. It’s a different view of the ice from here, but she can still see Nathan, skating unsteadily around the blue line.

Shae shrugs. “I saw it from where we were sitting. It didn’t look like anyone was using the spot.”

Nicole snorts. “Maybe because of the ‘Do Not Enter’ signs we passed on the way here.”

Shae winks at her. “I didn’t see them. Did you?”

Everything in Nicole tells her to follow the rules. She can hear Wynonna in her head, calling her  _ Five-O _ . She swallows down the urge to tell Shae that she  _ did _ see the signs and they  _ should _ go back over to their seats, but everything she goes to say gets lost in Shae’s smile.

She shakes her head instead.

“That guy was such a dickweed,” Shae declares. She pulls her Walkman out of her pocket and a pair of headphones. 

“I’m sorry,” Nicole grumbles. 

Shae pauses, giving her a confused smile. “For what?”

“That kid,” Nicole says. “He said, uh. He said that…” She swallows heavily, feeling a lump in her throat. “You know, when he called you…”

“Your girlfriend,” Shae finishes.

Nicole nods, her face burning. “Yeah,” she says, her voice strangled and her throat dry.

Shae looks at her, eyes clear and her mouth pressed into a thin line. “It didn’t bother me,” she says quietly, her fingers skipping along the edge of the Walkman.  _ Vital Signs _ picks up where it left off, right in the middle of “I Can’t Hold Back.”

“ _ And I feel the hand of fate reaching out to both of us. _ ”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “It… It didn’t?”

Shae shakes her head softly. “Actually…” She trails off. “I actually wanted to…”

Nicole feels her body leaning forward. “What?” she asks.

Shae looks down, picking at the lettering on her Walkman. “You know how... “ She takes a deep breath. “You know how you told me that REO Speedwagon’s ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore’ makes your chest feel too tight to breathe?”

Nicole nods wordlessly.

Shae shrugs a shoulder, looking down. “You make me feel the same way,” she whispers. She looks up and quickly looks down again, picking at the ‘S’ in Sony on her Walkman.

Nicole swallows heavily. “Real-” The word sticks in her throat, so she tries again. “Really?”

Shae bites down on her bottom lip and shrugs a shoulder. “I was going to ask you,” she says, her voice hard to hear over the buzzer going off as the first period ends. “I was going to…” She swallows, straightening her shoulders and looking Nicole in the eyes. “Don’t move,” she breathes.

Nicole frowns. “Don’t-”

The rest of her sentences dies somewhere between her lips and Shae’s. The ice rink isn’t cold, but Shae’s mouth is, pressed against hers in the corner of the Purgatory Skating Rink. She can feel a hand on her face, fingers brushing along the line of her jaw.

Shae pulls back and Nicole follows for a moment, her eyes closed and her head spinning. She blinks a few times, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. They taste like Orange Crush and the Carmex lip balm Shae uses. 

Her first kiss tastes like Orange Crush and sounds like Corey Hart’s “Never Surrender” on the scratchy overhead speakers.

“I’m sorry,” Shae says quickly. “I should have asked you if you-”

Nicole puts her hand over Shae’s, wrapped around the Walkman. Her cheeks feel like they’re burning, her hands are tingling, and she can’t stop looking at Shae’s mouth.

“Do you…” Nicole trails off and wets her lips again. “Do you remember how ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore’ makes my chest feel too tight to breathe?”

Shae nods slowly.

“That’s how you make me feel,” Nicole whispers. She leans in, but hesitates. “Could I…”

Shae nods again.

Nicole glances down, her eyes on Shae’s lips for a moment before she closes them and leans the rest of the way in.

Her second kiss feels just like the first, but  _ better _ .

Shae pulls away after a minute, laughs, and ducks her head, fitting it against Nicole’s shoulder. Nicole feels something in her chest tighten almost unbearably until it pops and fades slowly into a warmth that spreads across her body. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Shae admits, her words ghosting along Nicole’s neck.

Something about that makes Nicole swallow hard and choke on air.

Shae sits up, the corner of her lip turned up in a soft smile. It flickers for a second. “Is that something you-”

Nicole nods quickly. “ _ Yes _ . I mean…” She scratches at the back of her neck. “Yeah. For sure. Most definitely. Wicked.” She flushes, unable to stop the words coming out of her mouth. 

“Totally,” Shae says.

“Killer.”

Shae is smiling again. “Tubular.”

“Bitchin’.”

“Cool beans.”

“The bomb.”

“Choice.”

“Uh, trippendicular.”

Shae laughs. “Trippendicular?”

Nicole shrugs. “I heard someone say it once.”

_ Waverly said it once _ , she thinks instantly.  _ Oh, god. Waverly _ . 

Shae’s hand slips into hers, their fingers lacing together easily. Nicole shakes Waverly out of her head and picks up the headphones with her free hand. She places them on the bench in front of them, sliding the volume wheel on the Walkman all the way up so when the tape starts, they can both hear Jimi Jamison. Shae slides a little closer, their hips and knees and shoulders pressed together, as she pushes ‘play.’

“ _ I'm looking for a love that's everlasting. I wonder if the feeling's strong enough. Tell me are we merely lovers passing, or an everlasting love _ .”

 

-

The next day, Nicole waits until the clock says 11:00, until she’s sure Waverly has headed to The Patch with Gus, before she rolls out of bed and picks out her outfit. She had walked Shae home last night after the hockey game, one hand on her handlebars and the other hanging down at her side, occasionally brushing against Shae’s. They put  _ Vital Signs _ into the Hitachi in the basket on Nicole’s bike and kept the volume low, talking about the new assignment Ms. Pocket gave Shae over the weekend.

“I have to finish it tomorrow,” Shae said, sighing.

Nicole’s shoulders dropped. “Is it going to take long? Only because, I’m going to Wynonna’s in the afternoon to listen to music, and I was going to see if you-”

“Yes,” Shae said quickly. “I mean, I can get up early and finish it.”

She had walked Shae all the way up the Pressman driveway, leaning her bike against the stairs nervously. Shae was on the top step above her and Nicole had to tip her head back to see Shae’s face. Nicole picked at the front of her jacket, moving the zipper up and down the track. Shae laughed softly and moved down a step, her nose brushing against Nicole’s as she kissed the corner of her mouth. Her hands fluttered at her sides uselessly, unsure of what to do.

“I gotta motor before my parents come outside,” Shae whispered. Her hand rested on Nicole’s shoulder for a moment.

“I’ll come by tomorrow and pick you up,” Nicole offered.

“Tomorrow.” Shae’s hand reached out again and then fell back down before touching her. “I can’t wait.”

Nicole rode home, Shae’s  _ Vital Signs _ tape still playing in her Hitachi, and a smile on her face.

She was pretty sure “First Night” is her new favorite song. 

“ _ And this night shall be the first night _ ,” Jimi sang.  _ “And first nights were made for love. I can taste the action in the air tonight, hearts are poundin' as the sparks ignite. And this night shall be remembered, long after the music's gone. _ ”

She stands in front of her mirror and smoothes down her white shirt. 

“Do I wear something else?” she asks herself. She shakes her head. “Shae likes this outfit. Right?” Her eyes widen. “Right?”

Someone pounds on her bedroom door. Nicole jumps, grabbing the flannel on her bed and holding it in front of her body.

“Mom is leaving!” Nathan shouts. “She said to get out of the house, but be home by curfew.”

Nicole sighs in relief, her arms dropping. “I’m leaving!” she yells back. “Let me get dressed.”

Nathan doesn’t answer, but she can hear his footsteps on the stairs as he goes down into the living room. She holds the flannel up in front of her body again, tipping her head to the side as she studies her reflection. 

The flannel doesn’t look so bad, actually. It’s Nathan’s, and she was going to put it back in his room, but she unbuttons the top button instead and slides it on. It’s too big in the arms, but she carefully rolls it back until the fabric is tight around her arm, just above her elbow. She does the other arm, standing up straight to look at herself.

_ Not totally grody _ , she thinks. She nods sharply at her reflection.  _ This will do _ .

Nathan is already gone by the time she gets downstairs. She grabs an Orange Crush out of the fridge and then doubles back for a second one - for Shae. She tucks them both carefully into the basket on her bike and takes off slowly down the driveway. She takes her time, avoiding ice patches and potholes filled with snow. 

A 1981 Mercury Zephyr is backing out of the Pressman driveway as Nicole turns onto the street. A man with a moustache Doc would be envious of waves politely at her as he passes. Nicole makes a wide turn into the driveway, smiling widely as Shae comes out the back door, the screen slamming against the frame of the house.

“Hi,” Shae says.

Nicole wets her lips. She ate dinner last night and brushed her teeth twice, but she can still taste the tang of Orange Crush and smell the heavy musk of the Carmex. Shae’s hand brushes against Nicole’s as Shae wraps her fingers around Nicole’s handlebars. Her bike inches forward, the front wheel bumping against Shae’s boots.

“Hi,” Nicole breathes out. She reaches down, grabs a soda, and thrusts it at Shae. “Crush.”

_ Noob _ , a voice that sounds like Wynonna says.

Shae takes the soda and smiles wider. “My favorite.” Her hand hovers over Nicole’s basket. “Can you hold onto it until we get to Wynonna’s?”

Nicole nods, her face burning. “Totally.” She rolls her eyes at herself when Shae turns around and picks her bike off the pavement by the backstairs. “Oh, your tape,” she starts, pressing the eject button.  _ Vital Signs _ pops out of her Hitachi.

Shae sits on her bike and walks it down the drive towards Nicole. She reaches over and puts the tape back into the deck, closing it gently. “Let’s listen while we ride.” She hesitates. “Unless you’re sick of it.”

“Sick of Survivor?” Nicole laughs. “As if  _ anyone _ could be sick of Survivor.”

“I wouldn’t trust them,” Shae says firmly.

Nicole opens her mouth, but frowns and spins one of her pedals instead.  _ Waverly _ gets sick of Survivor quickly. She made a rule a few weekends ago - Before Shae - that Nicole could only listen to a tape all the way through  _ one _ time, and then she had to pick another tape.

She made the rule for everyone, really; Wynonna had to stop playing that one Black Sabbath tape before Waverly got so fed up she unspooled it. But she had been looking at Nicole the whole time, holding  _ Vital Signs  _ in her hand and that look on her face that she got from watching Gus. It’s the one that says she’s serious and she’ll tell on them for breaking one of Gus’s picture frames years ago and letting Curtis take the blame for it.

They ease down the driveway, the front wheels of their bikes dipping in towards each other.

“Shae?” she asks as they turn off Shae’s street.

Shae hums, her hair moving side to side as she sways to a song Nicole can’t hear.

“I was wondering,” Nicole starts. “I mean, I was going to ask you if-” She cuts herself off and takes a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is-”

Shae pedals backwards, her brakes locking. Nicole goes two meters further before she realizes, and then she loops her bike around, her tongue heavy in her mouth and her Eggos rioting in her stomach.

She spent all night practicing this in the mirror. She put her  _ Eye of the Tiger _ cassette on loudly and stood in front of her closet door, practicing how to ask Shae to go out on a date with her. She had tried finger guns, winking, and hooking her thumb through her belt loop. She tried running a hand through her hair, crossing her arms over her chest, and throwing her head back and laughing like the girls in the romantic comedies Waverly likes to watch.

She never got to the actual words she wanted to use, but she knew for sure that she couldn’t pull of any of the things she tried.

She scratches at the back of her neck, kicking a piece of gravel across the pavement. “So, I want to take you on a date,” she breathes out.

Shae straightens up, her eyes clear and focused. “You do?” she asks in a whisper.

“But,” Nicole starts. “Like, I can’t take you out because I don’t have an allowance and all of the money I got for my last birthday is in the bank. And I’m saving for a car, someday.”

Shae frowns. “Okay?”

“I thought about asking my mom,” Nicole continues. “But she has bills to pay, you know?”

Shae nods slowly.

“And I  _ can’t _ ask Nathan, because he’s a hoser who will make my life the worst if he finds out what I need the money for,” she says, rolling her eyes at the thought of her brother. “See, Waverly usually gets stuff like  _ Rolling Stone _ and tokens at Shorty’s, because she makes tips at The Patch. And because she lost a bet to Wynonna so she has to buy tokens at Shorty’s for the next few months,” she adds.

Something glimmers across Shae’s face, but it’s gone before Nicole can give it much thought.

“I guess, I can’t really take you out on a date,” Nicole says, frowning. 

“Ask me,” Shae says breathlessly.

Nicole tips her head to the side. “What?”

“Ask me,” Shae repeats. “Ask me the question you want to ask.”

_ Do you want to go on a date with me _ is on the tip of her tongue, but when she opens her mouth, something else comes out. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” she asks.

Shae’s eyes widen slightly.

Nicole panics, sliding back on the seat of her bike. “That was stupid. I shouldn’t have asked that.” She shakes her head and twists her hands on the grips of her handlebars.

“Yes,” Shae says quickly.

Nicole’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Yes,” Shae says again. She breathes in deeply. “If you really are asking, then-”

“I’m really asking,” Nicole says firmly.

“Then…” Shae smiles softly, looking up at Nicole through her eyelashes. “Then, yes.” She reaches forward, her fingers winding around Nicole’s wrist and tugging her forward.

Nicole’s bike rolls closer, her front wheel hitting Shae’s until she angles her handlebars away and she can move closer. Shae hooks her foot around the frame of Nicole’s bike, steadying herself.

“Yes,” she repeats.

“ _ Killer _ ,” Nicole breathes out, her nose brushing against Shay’s as she presses her lips to Shae’s mouth quickly. She pulls back, her whole body tingling at the contact.

“Tubular,” Shae whispers back.

Nicole straightens up, her cheeks flushed from the January cold and the way Shay’s ankle digs into her calf. 

Shae clears her throat. “You know,” she says quietly. “I can take  _ you _ out on a date.”

Nicole’s eyes widen.

“You didn’t think about it like that, did you?” Shae asks, laughing softly. 

Nicole smiles, ducking her head and letting the toes of her winter boots scrape against the blacktop. “No,” she admits. 

“Maybe next Saturday,” Shae suggests.

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “We usually go to The Forge on Saturdays.”

“Then I’ll buy you a tape,” Shae says. Her hand slides off Nicole’s arm and she inches her Procraft forward. “Maybe I’ll get you your own copy of  _ Vital Signs _ .”

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip, fighting a smile.

“Have I told you my thoughts on ‘It’s The Singer, Not The Song’?” she asks after a moment.

“Yes,” Shae says, smiling. “But tell me again.”

Nicole breathes in, her chest tight in a good way. She pushes up on her pedals, standing tall and coasting a few feet.  “Well, so, like, you know how songs just  _ feel _ a certain way?”

Nicole talks the whole ride across Purgatory, grinning as Shae hangs on every word. She understands now, why Curtis loved to talk about Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles. She finally gets what it’s like to  _ feel _ the music and to make someone else want to feel the same way. She feels her heart beating wildly in her chest and she wonders if this is what Curtis felt the first time she let him play  _ Rumours _ for her; if he felt the same spark of excitement and hopefulness.

Shae eases to a stop a street over from Homestead and reaches for Nicole’s Hitachi, fast-forwarding through “Everlasting” to “It’s The Singer, Not The Song.”

“Is it okay if we listen to it?” she asks, her finger hovering over the play/pause button. “I didn’t even ask.”

Nicole blinks at Shae a few times. “You want to listen to it?”

Shae shrugs a shoulder, a confused smile on her face. “Of course I do. How could I not after that?”

“Oh,” Nicole breathes out. “That’s… Sure. Totally. That’s fine.”

For the first time in a long time, Nicole doesn’t sing along to the song. She watches Shae instead; watches the way she smiles at a certain line or wrinkles her nose at another. By the time she gets to the McCready house, she doesn’t even know how she feels about that song anymore, but she’s pretty sure she wants to listen to it on repeat. 

They leave their bikes outside and stomp into the front hall, toeing off their boots and leaving their coats in a pile on the floor.

_ Hang them up _ , Waverly would have told them if she was here.

Shae pauses, looking at her. “Is that new?”

Nicole looks down at the flannel she picked out. She nervously fiddles with the extra button on the bottom and nods. “I mean, it’s Nathan’s. But I borrowed it.”

Shae’s tongue pokes out of her mouth, wetting her lip before she smiles. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” Nicole asks breathlessly.

Shae inches closer. “Yeah.”

“That’s-”

“Come  _ on _ ,” Wynonna yells from the living room. “I’m  _ aging _ in here.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and steps into the doorway, Shae at her side.

It feels a little odd to be here, in the living room where Waverly reads her  _ Rolling Stone _ and shows her the new dance routine they’re doing for Junior Cheerleading. It feels strange because as she lingers in the doorway to the living room where Waverly taught her how to play jacks, Shae’s hand slides into hers and their fingers lace together.

She almost pulls away.

It feels like writing the list all over again - like there’s ears and eyes everywhere that know the truth about her, and they’re going to tell Waverly everything. Shae’s hand is warm in hers, though, and she squeezes gently.

Her  _ girlfriend _ squeezes her hand gently.

Wynonna looks up from the couch and sighs dramatically. “It’s about time. I thought you bailed on us.  _ Again _ .”

Nicole’s fear fades instantly. “ _ You _ bailed on  _ us _ . We just returned the favor.”

Wynonna looks like she wants to say more, but she’s interrupted by Doc standing up, his hat over his chest. He tips his head in their direction, wetting his lips.

Wynonna groans. “Oh, god. You’re actually doing the speech.”

Doc glares at her for a moment before he clears his throat. “Now, Nicole. I know we have never discussed this, per say, but-”

Nicole holds up a hand, trying to stop him. “Doc, really-”

Doc talks louder. “ _ But _ , I want you to know that I feel a very soft affection for you and…” He trails off, pulling his hat back a little and glancing down at the inside of it. “And-and I am happy for this new venture in your life.”

Nicole’s face is on fire, but Doc looks pleased with himself. She smiles, her hand suddenly sweating in Shae’s. “Well. Thanks,” she mumbles.

He puts his hat back on and nods sharply, dropping back down onto the couch next to Wynonna. Wynonna lifts her feet and drops them back into Doc’s lap.

Nicole stands in the doorway for another minute before Shae tugs gently at her hand. She stumbles forward a step, her cheeks still burning. Shae sits down on the floor, her back against the armchair that used to belong to Curtis. She looks expectantly at Nicole until Nicole sits down next to her, their knees pressed together as they sit criss-cross on the floor. 

Wynonna gives her a sideways grin. “Well, now that you have a  _ girlfriend _ ,” she starts. “We can listen to music and drink sodas and hang out.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “I could have done that anyway,” she mumbles. 

“But it’s  _ better _ this way,” Wynonna insists. “See? My list worked.” 

Nicole shakes her head. “Are you going to be like this from now on? Because it’s annoying.”

“ _ I am the champion of the worrrrrld _ ,” Wynonna says.

Nicole growls softly, eyes narrowed. Whatever she’s going to say fades away as Shae rests her hand on Nicole’s leg.

“So who gets to pick the first tape?” Shae asks.

Wynonna grins. “Let’s listen to Black Sabbath.”

Nicole groans, but Shae laughs and leans into her side and Nicole forgets to hate  _ Never Say Die! _

 

-

Nicole skips the last two steps and jumps, landing hard on the the living room floor, the shock reverberating through her ankles and into her legs. She pats her pocket to make sure her notebook is still there and grins, taking off for the kitchen. Her mom is standing at the stove, a hand over her chest, when Nicole goes racing past her to the refrigerator.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” her mom accuses.

Nicole shrugs a shoulder, unscrewing the cap off the orange juice. She puts the whole bottle to her lips.

“Nicole!” her mom says. “Pour it into a glass if you want to drink it.”

“Can’t,” Nicole pants, putting the top back on the bottle. “Late.”

Her mom squints at the kitchen clock. “Late for what?” She sighs. “Oh, right. It’s Saturday.”

“ _ Mattie’s _ ,” Nicole breathes out. “I’ve got to pick up Shae on the way.” She looks at her mom with wide eyes. “Can you believe she’s  _ never _ been to Mattie’s before?”

“There are a lot of people who have never been to The Forge before,” her mom says, pointing at herself.

“That’s different,” Nicole says quickly. “You’re-” She cuts herself off.

Her mom raises an eyebrow. “I’m what?”

“Older,” Nicole says slowly. “Than me.”

“I would hope so,” her mom mutters. “Are you going to eat breakfast?”

Nicole shakes her head, pushing up onto her toes to look at what’s cooking. “But save me some for later?” she asks hopefully.

Her mom shrugs a shoulder, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. Nathan will probably eat everything this morning, but her mom will make her a fresh plate and leave it wrapped in the refrigerator with her name on it for later.

Nicole reaches into the refrigerator, putting the orange juice back on the top shelf, behind the milk. 

“You’ve been hanging out with that Shae girl an awful lot lately,” her mom says casually. She pushes a spatula through the mountain of potatoes and onions in the frying pan on the stovetop. 

Nicole feels a rush of warmth spread across her face, and she leans further into the refrigerator, trying to let the air cool her down. “She lives on the same street as Doc,” she says to the carton of milk.

Her mom hums. “When do I get to meet this new friend of yours?”

Nicole swallows heavily, staring at the jar of pickles Nathan likes. “Someday,” she finally says.

“Someday soon? Or someday never?”

Nicole stands up and grins, hip-checking the refrigerator door closed. “When pigs fly, probably,” she says. “Or when Nathan learns how to take out the trash.”

Her mom sighs dramatically, throwing a hand over her eyes. “Someday never, then.” She reaches into the frying pan, pulls out a potato, and hands it to Nicole. 

“Here, take this,” she instructs. “And tell Wynonna that the next time she comes over and eats all of the Cheezies, she better at least stay for dinner.’

Nicole flushes. Shae had come over on Wednesday, her mom’s second-shift night, and they ate through the whole bag of Cheezies while they listened to Queen’s  _ News of the World _ . They held hands, and when Shae kissed her goodnight, Nicole had orange powder on her face where Shae’s hands had been.

Her mom came home and Nicole panicked, blaming it on Wynonna.

_ Buy Wynonna a bag of Cheezies _ , she reminds herself.

She smiles at her mom and barrels out the back door, jumping down the steps and picking her bike up off the pavement. She brushes off the thin layer of snow from the night before and takes off down the driveway, the cool air slipping in through the sleeves of her coat. 

Shae is sitting on the back steps when Nicole gets there, blowing into her hands. She comes down off the steps as Nicole turns into the driveway.

“Have you heard ‘Rock Me Amadeus’ yet?” Shae asks immediately. “Because it’s in  _ German, _ but it’s the kind of song that sounds like  _ Wynonna _ , you know?”

Nicole laughs. “What does that mean?”

Shae shrugs as she gets on her Procraft. “It’s the kind of song with a good synth and I don’t understand the lyrics at all.”

They pass by Doc’s house. Shae shakes her head. “I saw him leave this morning,” she says.

“Probably picking up Wynonna,” Nicole says.

Shae rides in a circle around her. “Don’t you usually get her?”

_ And Waverly _ , Nicole thinks. 

“I came and got you,” she says out loud.

Shae smiles and ducks her head. 

Wynonna’s bike is already outside of Mattie’s, parked next to Doc’s. Nicole puts her bike in the rack and waits for Shae to do the same. They pause outside the door, Shae’s hand slipping into hers.

“Are you ready?” Nicole asks quietly.

Shae nods wordlessly.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been in here,” Nicole says.

“And I can’t believe you can’t believe it,” Shae says.

“It’s just-”

Shae laughs. “I know, I know. But it’s not like I had a lot of people to go with,” she says, her voice dropping low. “And my dad usually brings me tapes from his business trip, so…”

Nicole squeezes her hand softly. “Well, get ready to eat your shorts.”

It works. Shae laughs, throwing her head to the side a little and squeezing her eyes shut. It’s Nicole’s favorite sound right now - better than the guitar solo in AC/DC’s “Back in Black” or the scratching noise as a cassette player kicks on. It’s better than the hum of the neon lights in The Patch or the bells and whistles of Shorty’s.

Shae laughs and Nicole wishes she could make it the back track of every mixtape from here on out.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Shae says, catching her breath.

Nicole shrugs a shoulder. “It doesn’t have to.” She swings their linked hands. “Let’s go before Wynonna tells us she died from The Waiting Disease.”

The bell above the door sounds just like the bell at The Patch, but walking into Mattie’s place,  _ The Forge _ , feels nothing like walking into The Patch.

The Patch smells like fryer oil and fresh pancakes, and walking through the door feels like her 12th birthday all over again.

Mattie’s place feels like the first time she heard “Bringin’ On The Heartbreak” and the first mixtape she made. It feels like the first time she started a blank tape at the same time as the disc jockey on 88.3 played “Don’t Stop Believing’.” It feels like ice rink air against her cheeks and Shae’s mouth against hers.

“Wow,” Shae breathes out as they stand in the entrance.

Nicole grins. “See? I told you.”

There’s tables and tables of cassette tapes, stretching from the front of the store to the back wall. Plastic sparkles in the overhead lights.

It’s number three on Nicole’s Top Ten Most Beautiful Things in the world.

Shae’s face as she takes in The Forge and all of its glory might be number two.

“Come here,” Nicole says excitedly. “I want to show you the Survivor section.”

“Hey, Haught,” Mattie says from behind the counter.

Nicole detours, sliding up next to Wynonna and Doc, resting her elbows on the wooden countertop. “Hey, Mattie.”

“Earp and Holliday here have been waiting for you,” Mattie says.

“About damn time,” Wynonna mutters.

Nicole elbows Wynonna gently.

“And this is…” Mattie starts, looking at Shae.

Nicole straightens up. “Shae,” she says. “My-” She stops herself and swallows. “Girlfriend, Shae.”

Mattie raises an eyebrow questioningly, but shrugs. “Hi, Girlfriend Shae.”

Shae’s cheeks flush a little and she sways into Nicole’s side.

“I’m going to show her around,” Nicole announces.

Mattie nods. “Well, you know where the sodas are when you want one.”

Nicole nods and tugs at Shae’s arm, dragging her towards the ‘Rock’ section. “Mattie gives us free sodas.  _ And _ ,” she says excitedly. “She keeps Orange Crush, just for me. You can totally have one.”

“Okay,” Shae says, grinning.

They go up and down the aisles, pausing to look at tapes and compare their feelings on different songs. 

Shae stops in front of The Cure and sighs dreamily. “Don’t you love them?”

Nicole wrinkles her nose a little. “They’re  _ okay _ , but The Clash is better.”

Shae scoffs. “As if.”

Nicole turns away from Shae, pulling a small notebook and pencil out of her pocket. She quickly scribbles  “The Love Cats” down, adding it to the list of songs Shae seems interested in. 

Nicole smiles to herself. She’s going to make the  _ best _ mixtape, full of songs Shae has mentioned or sang or danced along to at Shorty’s. 

_ A mixtape has to come from the heart _ , Curtis told her.  _ Every song has to mean something to the person who is going to listen to it, obviously. But more importantly,  _ he said, kneeling down next to her.  _ Most importantly, it needs to mean something to the person making it _ .

Shae pauses as the song playing in the shop changes and “Hot Blooded” comes on. She grins and sings along under her breath. Nicole adds that to the three pages she already has. 

“Oh,” Shae says, reaching back for Nicole. 

Their hands lace instantly, so used to the practice of it by now that it doesn’t even feel strange to be standing in the middle of Mattie’s with her girlfriend -  _ her girlfriend _ \- while Foreigner plays over the speakers. She lets Shae pull her along the line of cassette tapes to the ‘Pop’ section. 

“Okay,” Shae says slowly. “I have to admit something.”

“You’re too perfect?” Wynonna suggests as she breezes by them. She’s wearing one of the headsets Mattie keeps at the front, so people can listen to the used tapes before they buy them. She shakes her hips and pivots, scanning the music shop for Doc.

Shae shakes her head sadly. “I’m not. In fact…” She lowers her voice and leans in a little closer to Nicole. “I like the movie  _ Flashdance _ ,” she says, pointing at the soundtrack cassette.

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “But-”

“I know, I know,” Shae says. “But ‘Maniac’ just…  _ speaks  _ to me.”

_ Waverly likes that song too _ , Nicole thinks. She even made up a cheer routine for it that involved a lot of spinning and stomping. Nicole swallows heavily, pressing her lips together in a thin line. 

Shae steps closer, her fingers slipping under the loose fabric of the flannel Nicole picked out for today. She can feel the heat from Shae’s fingers burning through the thin white shirt she’s wearing underneath. 

“Can you forgive me?” Shae asks, her nose bumping against Nicole’s as she speaks.

Nicole tries to speak, but there’s a lump in her throat she can’t swallow past. She rests her own hand on Shae’s hip, their toes pressed against each other. 

Shae lifts her hand and twists a strand of Nicole’s hair around her finger, letting it loose before doing it again. “It’s just one thing, right? “ she asks. “It’s not the end of the world.”

The bell above the door chimes as it opens, cutting through Al Greenwood’s synthezier.

Waverly’s voice rings out above Lou Gramm’s, loud and angry. “You guys  _ totally _ left without me!”

Nicole’s hand tightens on Shae’s hip. She looks up, her mouth dry and her heart beating like the bassline of “Love Will Tear Us Apart.”

“I can’t believe you just-” Waverly halts abruptly, her body pitching forward with the sudden stop. 

Waverly’s eyes narrow and she tips her head to the side as she looks Nicole up and down. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she shakes her head and takes a step back. “What… What are you doing?”

Nicole feels everything come crashing down around her. 


	2. with a girl like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go with me,” Shae continues.
> 
> Nicole’s head snaps up. “What?”
> 
> “To the Valentine’s Day Dance,” Shae continues. “It’s Friday. Beth Gardner is in my study hall, and she’s selling tickets.” Shae looks at the ground and shrugs a shoulder. “I bought two tickets, and I was going to ask you to come with me.”
> 
> Nicole swallows heavily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicole having her first girlfriend is going exactly as it should. And then it doesn’t. 
> 
> Happy (late) Valentine’s Day, y’all.
> 
> (Thank for you getting through Shaepocalypse; the payoff will be worth it, I hope.)
> 
> As always, thanks to TheGaySmurf for never giving up and for coining this one Shaepocalypse.

Something hits her in the head as Wynonna collides with a magazine rack. 

“Shiz nits,” Wynonna hisses, rubbing at her hip. She glances up, frowning as she looks at Nicole. “What’s the beef?” She looks across the room at Waverly and her eyes widen. “Oh,” she breathes out.

Nicole panics. Shae’s hands are all over her, too hot and too much. Waverly is still staring at her, eyes clouded and confused. There’s a magazine stuck between her body and Shae’s. Rick Springfield smiles up at her.

“What are you doing?” Waverly asks again.

Shae’s hand flexes against Nicole’s side. 

It startles Nicole and she drops her hand from Shae’s hipbone, shoving it deep into her front pocket.

“Waverly,” she says, her voice breaking.

Waverly takes a small step backwards.

Shae’s fingertips drag across her waist and down her jawline. She looks at Waverly and back at Nicole. Slowly, she wraps her hand around Nicole’s forearm, squeezing softly to get Nicole’s attention.

Doc clears his throat, stepping away from the counter. Mattie puts her copy of  _ Vogue _ down, her eyes darting back and forth between Nicole, Waverly, Shae, Wynonna, and Doc.

“Ms. Waverly,” he starts.

Waverly’s head snaps in his direction, her eyes hot and burning. “ _ Don’t _ you ‘Ms. Waverly’ me, John Henry.”

He puts his hands up in surrender and steps back.

Nicole is still stuck, Shae’s hand like a weight on her arm. 

Wynonna tries next, pulling the headphones down around her neck and slipping the Walkman into her pocket. “Waves, you were sleeping. We didn’t want to-”

“Invite me to Mattie’s?” Waverly finishes. Her voice is hard and tight, like she’s grinding her back teeth together to stop herself from screaming. “Because you-you  _ replaced _ me?”

Nicole feels Doc turn and look at her. Shae’s hand flexes on her arm, but she still can’t move. 

“Woah, space case. We didn’t replace you.” Wynonna laughs, forced and uncomfortable. “We just didn’t think about waking you up.”

Waverly is still glaring at Nicole, her hands clenched tight into fists. Shae’s hand slides up and down Nicole’s arm, trying to be comforting, but it catches Waverly attention and holds it. Something inside of Waverly changes and the anger flickers, fading into something else. Something sadder.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” Waverly asks, her voice barely audible over the end of “Hot Blooded” playing on the speakers. 

“Shae,” Shae offers. “My name is Shae.” She steps forward with a hesitant smile, her hand outstretched. “You’re Waverly. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Waverly ignores her hand. “I haven’t heard a single thing about you,” she spits.

Nicole feels her feet unstick and she pushes forward. “Hey, wait a minute. Don’t be-”

“ _ What _ ?” Waverly asks, her anger flaring again. “Don’t be mad that you’ve been avoiding me?” She takes a step forward.

Nicole wants to shrink back. She wants to trust-fall backwards into the table of tapes and hope the music catches her and takes her far away from this place - this place where Waverly has so much anger in her eyes, and Shae’s hand feels like a chain on her arm, and she’s sure by the time this over, someone is going to hate her for forever.

“Don’t be mad that you haven’t talked to me  _ all week _ and I thought I did something wrong, but you’re fine and you’re…” Waverly frowns, blinking a few times. “Were you holding her hand?”

“I’m not,” Nicole says quickly. She shakes her head as she feels Shae’s eyes cut towards her. “I mean, I was.”

Waverly’s face twists even more. “Why?” She scoffs. “You hate it when I try to hold your hand.” She looks at Shae. “She told me she couldn’t risk her trigger finger and her perfect record of hitting record as a song starts.”

It was a lie she told Waverly a few months ago, when touching hurt too much. It was something she told Waverly after that afternoon on Waverly’s bedroom floor, after Curtis’s death. She could feel Waverly’s fingertips ghosting over her hands for three days after Waverly cleaned all of her cuts out and bandaged the little skin Nicole had left behind. The feeling kept her awake at night and put her to sleep in Ms. Daisy’s Algebra class. It crept into every single one of Nicole’s thoughts until she finally had to pull away and tell Waverly a lie.

The truth was: she wanted to hold Waverly’s hand. She wanted to lace their fingers together and sit on the couch, and she wanted to listen to that mixtape under her pillow,  _ finally _ . 

But the truth was: Champ Hardy held the same hands Nicole wanted to. 

The truth was: Curtis told her he was proud of her, and Wynonna still called her Five-O like always, and her mom smiled that secret mom-smile whenever Nicole mentioned Shae, but Waverly might  _ hate _ her.

It had been so easy to tell Mattie. It had been so easy to say, “ _ This is my girlfriend, Shae _ .” But when she tries to tell Waverly, the words stick like a fluffernutter sandwich in her mouth.

Waverly crosses her arms over her chest and taps her foot against the floor.

“Okay,” Wynonna says loudly. “How about we all just, like, go over to The Patch and grab a milkshake and stop acting like total goons right now, huh?” She looks at Doc. “Yeah?”

“I am  _ more _ than amenable to that,” Doc mutters, putting his hat on.

Wynonna nods excitedly. “Good. Cool. Tubular. Let’s go, okay?” She reaches for Waverly’s shoulder. “Come on, Waves. Let’s go have a shake. Extra whip cream.”

Waverly twists away from Wynonna’s hand, her mouth set in an angry line. She narrows her eyes in Nicole’s direction.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Nicole exhales into the empty space between “Hot Blooded” and “Every Breath You Take.”

Shae’s hand tightens painfully around her arm.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Nicole says again, her voice steadier. 

Waverly laughs. “What do you think I am? A noob?”

Nicole feels a heat in her chest that flares rapidly.  _ Is this what Curtis felt _ ? she wonders.  _ Is this what dying feels like _ ? 

“Of course she’s not your girlfriend,” Waverly continues.

The heat turns into a fist that squeezes the muscles in her chest so tightly that she’s not sure she can breathe. 

Doc’s shoulders stiffen. 

Shae’s body goes slack beside her. 

Wynonna scowls, reaching out and shoving at Waverly’s shoulder roughly. “Knock it off, Waverly.”

Waverly stops laughing. She looks at Doc, at Wynonna, at Shae, and finally back at Nicole. The smile slips off her face. “She’s your girlfriend?” Waverly asks, her voice small. 

Nicole’s hand tightens in her pocket.

“You have a…” Waverly shakes her head. “You have a  _ girlfriend _ ?”

“Waverly,” Nicole tries, her throat and the word hoarse.

“And you didn’t tell me,” Waverly continues, her shoulders turning inward. She takes another step backwards. She pushes her hands into the pockets of the overalls she’s wearing today. “You didn’t tell me,” she repeats.

Nicole’s body lurches forward. She nearly trips over Shae’s feet, but catches herself. Her hands reach out towards Waverly, clawing through the air. 

_ Wait,  _ she thinks.  _ Just hold on. Just let me explain _ .

Waverly stumbles backwards, nearly colliding with the ‘Just Released’ table near the door.

_ Waverly, don’t _ , Nicole thinks.  _ Don’t leave me _ .

“Don’t,” Waverly says sharply, jabbing her finger in Nicole’s direction. “ _ Don’t _ follow me.”

Nicole comes to a stop, her body bouncing against an invisible force. She tries to nod, to show Waverly that she gets it and she’ll give her space, but she can’t move anything. She can only watch as Waverly shoves at the door and pushes out onto the sidewalk. She watches as Waverly storms past the window to Mattie’s, heading away from The Patch.

“ _ I look around, but it's you I can't replace. I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace. I keep crying baby, baby, please, _ ” Sting sings. 

Someone inhales sharply, like Cecil Wright, Jr.’s 1969 Renault 16TA Sedan backfiring. It takes Nicole a minute to realize the sound came from her. She rubs at her chest where it feels tight, as if she can loosen a knot she’s not sure how to untie. 

When she turns around, Shae is staring at her, eyes wide and confused. She watches Shae look past her, over her shoulder, at the door swinging shut behind Waverly. Her eyes narrow into slits before they widen and she quickly looks away, kicking softly at a leg of a table. 

Wynonna clears her throat and tries to laugh. “Girls. So dramatic,” she says, trying to laugh again. “Amirite?” 

“Shae,” Nicole says, ignoring Wynonna.

Shae looks up at her, forcing a smile. “So she didn’t know we were dating.”

“I didn’t…” Nicole trails off.

_ I didn’t know if I could tell her. _

_ I didn’t know what to say. _

_ I didn’t know  _ how _ to say it. _

She shakes her head slowly. 

Shae nods. “Because…” she prompts.

“Because…” Nicole echoes.

_ Because I didn’t know if I could tell her. _

_ Because I didn’t know what to say. _

_ Because I didn’t know  _ how _ to say it. _

She shrugs a shoulder, looking at the ground. 

Shae steps in - Nicole can see the tops of her sneakers bumping against her own boots - and her hand flutters at Nicole’s side before settling on her arm. “You don’t have to explain it. It’s totally okay.”

Nicole looks up slowly, already flinching away. “I… I don’t?”

Shae sighs softly. “Of course you don’t. I kind of assumed everyone knew that you liked girls, because Wynonna and Doc and the way you introduced me to Mattie,” Shae says, hooking her thumb over her shoulder back towards the counter. “But I also haven’t met your mom, so maybe I shouldn’t have assumed,” Shae finishes, frowning. “Oh, man. I totally assumed.”

Nicole shakes her head. “I just didn’t… get around to it,” she finishes lamely.

The truth is: she totally avoided it.

Shae squeezes her arm gently, getting her attention. She tucks a strand of Nicole’s hair behind her ear. Ten minutes ago, the feeling sent shivers down Nicole’s spine. Now, it turns her stomach over and she feels like she’s going to be sick on Mattie’s floor.

“You don’t have to tell anyone you don’t want to.” Her eyes drift over Nicole’s shoulder again out the storefront window. “But she was  _ totally _ upset.”

Nicole swallows heavily. “I know,” she breathes out.

Shae gives her a soft smile. “She’ll get over it eventually, you know?” she says confidently. Her shoulders straighten and she smiles wider, more reassuringly. She strokes her fingers down Nicole’s cheek and under her chin. “She’ll totally get over it. And if she doesn’t…” Shae’s smile falters for just a moment. “Well, you’ll get over that, too.”

Nicole’s chest tightens.  _ No _ , she thinks.  _ No, I wouldn’t _ .

“I mean,” Shae continues, sliding her hand down Nicole’s sleeves, over her wrist, and lacing their fingers together. “It’s not like you’re, like, in love with her.” She laughs softly.

Doc makes a noise in the back of his throat. 

Nicole stiffens for a moment before she laughs, too loud and too high-pitched to be normal.

Shae tips her head to the side, staring at Nicole oddly for a moment before her eyes clear and she smiles again. 

Doc’s cowboy boots scuff against the floor as he approaches Wynonna. Out of the corner of her eye, Nicole can see him drop his arm across Wynonna’s shoulders. “I do believe, if we are to follow our normal Saturday routine, we should be heading over to The Patch for our usual basket of fries and shakes.”

Shae looks closely at Nicole. “Are  _ you _ okay with that?”

_ Not if Waverly isn’t there _ , Nicole thinks too quickly. She nods even faster, her tongue heavy in her mouth. “That’s fine,” she manages to say without stumbling over the words. 

Shae smiles a little wider and starts towards the door.

Wynonna reaches out as they go by her, her hand out towards Nicole. It falls before Wynonna touches Nicole, but Nicole nods anyway, shrugging her shoulder softly and ducking out of Mattie’s without throwing a ‘goodbye’ towards the counter. 

She spends the rest of the afternoon at The Patch, tucked into the corner of their favorite booth, nodding absently to Shae’s stories and ignoring Wynonna’s eyes. Doc kicks her under the table, smiling at her when she looks up, but she goes back to staring out the window at Waverly’s Schwinn Stingray still parked in the bike rack on the sidewalk.

Gus serves her a basket of fries, staring at her strangely for a minute.

“Where’s Waverly?” she asks, scanning the booth.

“Home,” Wynonna says quickly. “She didn’t want to come today. Something about something, you know?”

Gus lifts an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest. “Something about something,” she repeats.

“ _ Wow _ ,” Wynonna says loudly. “I love this song. Nicole, don’t you love this song?”

It’s Dokken’s “Alone Again,” and Nicole wants to punch the person who picked this song.

Nicole never felt like she’s hated music this much in her entire life.    
  


-

Wynonna sits down on the front steps next to her, their shoulders brushing. “She still won’t talk to you?”

Nicole rubs at her neck wearily. “No,” she admits. “I called last night and she told Gus to tell me she wasn’t home.”

Wynonna nods. “She was yelling at that stupid C. Thomas Howell poster about you.”

“What if…” Nicole’s throat closes, the words stuck. She’s afraid if she says what she thinks, what she’s been thinking for a whole week now, since Waverly stormed out of Mattie’s and told Nicole to stay away from her. “What if she really hates me?”

The question is a whisper that nearly gets swallowed up by the wind. For a moment, Wynonna doesn’t say anything and Nicole closes her eyes, trying to pretend like she never asked. When she opens them again, she turns her head slowly, just to find Wynonna staring back at her.

“Did you hit your head?”

Nicole frowns. “What?”

“ _ What if she really hates me _ ?” Wynonna parrots. She shakes her head. “For a Roller, you’re not that smart.”

Nicole scowls. “She-”

“She’s mad at you,” Wynonna says, her voice soft again. “But she doesn’t hate you.”

“I’d hate me,” Nicole mutters.

“I mean,” Wynonna continues. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell her you like girls.”

Nicole’s mouth goes dry. “I…”

“And you don’t need to tell me,” Wynonna adds after another minute of silence. “It’s just that Waverly kind of thinks you’re, like, as cool as Sodapop.”

Nicole wrinkles her nose. “What?”

“ _ Outsiders _ ?” Wynonna asks. “The movie? With…” She turns on the step, her knees hitting Nicole’s thigh painfully. “Didn’t Waverly make you watch that stupid movie?”

Nicole tips her head to the side, thinking. “Was it…” She frowns. “Was that the one where they sang that song ‘Gloria’?” she asks.

Wynonna sighs. “I don’t know. It was the one where that kid pulls a Springer leverlock shell puller switchblade on that rich kid.”

She remembers that Waverly wanted to watch that movie a few years ago. Curtis had rented it at the movie store in town and waited until Gus had her inventory night at The Patch to let them watch it. She remembers the song ‘Gloria,’ and how Waverly’s hand had been close enough to touch, if Nicole had been able to work up the nerve to slide her own over an inch or two more. She remembers how when Johnny stabbed Bob, Waverly had gasped and reached out, finding the edge of Nicole’s short sleeve shirt, and held on until Ponyboy and Johnny finally stopped at the abandoned church.

Nicole shakes her head. “Gus is going to freak out if you keep going on and on about switchblades. You know that?”

Wynonna waves a hand dismissively. “Gus’ll never notice. Not with Waverly wandering around the house like someone who only listens to New Order.”

Nicole drops her head into her hands again. “It’s been two weeks,” she says quietly. “She won’t ride with us to school-”

“We don’t even go to the same school,” Wynonna points out.

“She doesn’t want me to come by The Patch after school,” Nicole continues.

Wynonna shrugs. “You’ve been with Shae after school.”

Nicole forgot, for a minute, about Shae. 

She came over to the McCreadys’ this morning to pick Wynonna up before they meet Doc and Shae at Mattie’s. She had been fine, really, before she turned into the driveway. 

She listened to  _ Vital Signs _ on her way over and felt a little lighter as she sang along to “First Night,” remembering Shae’s smile and the way she kissed. It made her think of every day since that one; of meeting Shae at school and sneaking into the second floor bathroom, crammed tightly into a single stall to listen to a few songs before the first bell; of the way Shae would twist her fingers into the bottom of Nicole’s shirts as they lingered in the hall, saying goodbye; of the way Shae’s lips lingered on her cheek when they went their separate ways after lunch; of riding out to Shae’s house after school and kissing hesitantly on the back steps of the Pressman house while they listened to  _ Drastic Measures _ by Kansas.

But then she turned into the driveway and saw Waverly’s Stingray on the lawn, and Shae vanished from her mind.

All she could think about was Waverly; about the look on her face at Mattie’s and the way her shoulders rolled in like they did on the morning of Curtis’s funeral; about the way Waverly disappeared whenever Nicole came over to see Wynonna; about two days ago when they both ended up in the kitchen at the same time and Waverly walked by her like Nicole was a part of the wallpaper.

She moved the mixtape out from under her pillow and shoved it in her sock drawer. She pinned a picture of Alyssa Milano over the Polaroid of her and Waverly and Wynonna outside of the Wainwright after one of Wynonna’s piano recitals. She stopped at the corner of Homestead now and waited for Wynonna, instead of going all the way down to the McCreadys’ house.

Wynonna claps a hand down on her shoulder and it’s exactly where Nicole needs it to be, but it’s not the right hand. It doesn’t have the same weight Curtis’s hand did; it doesn’t feel as warm or as comforting. But Wynonna squeezes softly, and Nicole can’t blame her for not being Curtis, so she smiles a little and sighs.

“Okay,” she says decisively, stretching her legs out. “Are we going to Mattie’s or not?” She stands up and stretches her arms over her head, frowning as she catches sight of another bike on the lawn, tipped over on its side. She points. “Whose bike is that?”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and stomps down the steps, kicking the tire of the 1985 GT Mach One. “It’s  _ Chump’s _ .”

Nicole’s hand squeezes into a fist. “He’s in there? With her?  _ Alone _ ?” She starts up the stairs, her boots thudding against the wood.

Wynonna jumps the stairs two at a time and beats her to the door. She spreads her arms wide, blocking Nicole from getting inside. “Wait a minute, Five-O.”

“Wynonna,” Nicole warns.

Wynonna tries to body-bump her back a meter. “Take a red, killer.”

“I’m gonna-”

“Go back down the stairs and think before you piss Waverly off even more?” Wynonna asks. She smiles brightly. “That sounds like a  _ clutch _ idea. Good one, Nicole. Way to use your head,” she continues as she edges Nicole back towards the top step.

“Wynonna,” Nicole says again. “It’s  _ Champ Hardy, _ and-”

“And Waverly can handle herself.” Wynonna narrows her eyes. “She just needs some space.”

Nicole scowls, but she knows Wynonna is right.

_ And you have a girlfriend _ , she reminds herself.

She nods and bites down on her bottom lip to avoid saying anything else. 

“What do you mean, you’re not taking me?” Waverly’s voice drifts out the house, under the heavy front door behind the screen.

Wynonna steps out of the doorway quickly, shouldering Nicole down the steps. 

Champ’s voice isn’t as loud, but it’s getting closer. “I told you, babe. It’s a  _ high school _ dance. No 8th graders allowed.”

“No 8th graders allowed?” Waverly repeats loudly.

The front door opens and Champ comes sauntering out, his hands in his front pockets as he shrugs. “I don’t make the rules, Waves.”

Waverly follows him, her hands at her sides in fists and her mouth twisted in a frown.

Nicole stumbles back on the lawn, the sight of Waverly almost knocking her over. Her cheeks are flushed red and her side ponytail is a mess, like someone has been running their hands through it. The thought richotes around Nicole’s head and makes her sick to her stomach.

“That’s  _ bunk _ ,” Waverly shouts.

Champ turns on the bottom step, and Waverly stops, still standing on the portch. “Well, doy.” He gives her a sad smile. “I  _ wish _ I could bring you.”

Waverly smiles. “So bring me.”

Nicole looks at Wynonna and frowns. Wynonna shrugs back at her.

Champ sighs and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Champ,” Waverly says, grinding her teeth together.

“What’s going on?” Wynonna finally asks, stepping forward.

“Stay out of it, Wynonna!” Waverly shouts, stomping after Champ.

“You’re just not old enough,” Champ says. He shrugs both shoulders. “I didn’t want to tell you, but, like…” He lowers his voice. “8th graders aren’t cool.” He turns around and starts towards his Mach One.

Waverly’s mouth drops open.

Nicole lurches forward, eyes narrowed in on the back of Champ’s head. She watched the Tyson/Mercedez fight last year with Nathan, squeezed in together in front of the their television, taking turns watching the one-round knockout and watching out for their mom. All the time she wasn’t with Wynonna and Waverly, she spent with Nathan learning all she could about the up-and-coming Mike Tyson. Nathan even started working out. 

She’s not eight anymore. She knows where to aim for maximum damage, and she knows how much Champ likes his nose exactly where it is. 

Wynonna grabs her by the bottom of the shirt, her other hand finding Nicole’s belt loop and pulling hard. “ _ Woah _ ,” she says, sliding forward a meter before she gets her footing and pulls Nicole to a stop. 

Champ turns around, spreading his arms wide. “It’s just the way it is, babe. I can’t do anything about it. It’s the  _ rules _ . And rules are rules.”

Waverly scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. “Those are stupid rules!” she yells after him, coming to a stop next to Wynonna. 

Champ winks at her and blows her a kiss. He smirks in Nicole and Wynonna’s direction and gets on his bike, pushing off across the lawn and to the driveway.

“He’s a  _ putt _ ,” Wynonna grumbles as Champ takes off down the driveway. She looks at Waverly. “Are you okay?”

Waverly sighs. “I just screamed at you. You shouldn’t be nice to me.”

“Well, maybe you’ve just been dating too many shitheads,” Nicole mutters.

Waverly whips around, her eyes blazing. “We’re  _ not _ dating.”

“I know,” Nicole breathes out. “God, Waverly. I-”

Waverly jabs her finger in Nicole’s direction. “So just leave me alone.”

Nicole scowls, her hand curling into a fist so tight that her fingernails dig into her palm. “ _ Sure _ , Waverly. Whatever you want.” She turns neatly on her heel and storms across the lawn, picking her Foiler up off the driveway. She mounts it and pushes off, not bothering to look back as she hollers over her shoulder. “Come  _ on _ , Wynonna.”

Wynonna catches up with her by the end of the street, panting hard and hanging over her handlebars. “You guys,” she breathes out. “You guys are totally juiced.”

The anger in the pit of Nicole’s stomach flares. “ _ I’m _ not juiced.  _ She’s _ -”

“Mad,” Wynonna interrupts.

Nicole sags down into the seat of her bicycle. She pedals slowly, her Hitachi silent in the basket on the handlebars. Wynonna rides beside her, keeping pace. “You know why I didn’t tell her, right?” Nicole finally asks as they make the turn onto Elm. 

Wynonna shrugs. “Sure.”

Nicole glances over at her quickly. Wynonna doesn’t look sure. A part of Nicole  _ needs _ Wynonna to understand the careful web of non-truth she’s laid out. She pulls to the side of the road, dangling one foot off the pedal to steady herself against the curb. 

Wynonna sails by her and looks over her shoulder. She sighs and doubles back, pulling up alongside Nicole. “What?” she whines. “I just want to get to Mattie’s. Can’t we talk about it later?”

Nicole should say  _ yes _ and just take off to Mattie’s; she should say  _ yes _ and race Wynonna to Main Street; she should say  _ yes _ and go see her  _ girlfriend _ \- the one she spent an hour on the phone with last night debating who was the better drummer, Neal Peart or Phil Collins. 

Instead, she shakes her head. “No, listen.”

Wynonna sighs. “Okay. But, hurry up.”

“I didn’t tell her because…” Nicole trails off.

“Because…” Wynonna prompts.

“I was afraid… She would hate me,” Nicole whispers. As soon as the words come out of her mouth, she realizes they’re not a lie. They’re not the whole truth - not the whole reason why she never told Waverly about Shae - but they’re most of it. 

The look of irritation slides off Wynonna’s face. “She wouldn’t hate you.”

Nicole laughs, the noise choked and hollow. “She  _ does _ hate me.”

Wynonna wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think she hates you,” she says slowly. “I think she’s  _ mad _ . But…” She reaches out, her fingertips resting on the handlebar of Nicole’s bike. “But not because you like girls. She’s mad because you didn’t tell her that in the  _ first place _ .”

_ Because she would have asked  _ what _ girl I liked _ , Nicole thinks.

Wynonna mistakes her silence for something else and brushes her hand against Nicole’s. “She’ll get over herself. I mean, it’s just Waverly, right?” She snorts. “She was more upset when Curtis and Gus told her she couldn’t get tickets for Madonna’s ‘Virgin Tour’.”

“She cried for a week,” Nicole remembers.

Wynonna grins. “See? She’ll totally cool out in no time.”

Nicole finally nods. “Okay.”

“So we can go now?” Wynonna asks. 

Nicole nods again and pushes off the curb. She doesn’t turn on her Hitachi, though. Not yet. Music doesn’t sound  _ right _ yet.

It’s why she hesitates outside of Mattie’s. 

Last week, Wynonna had pushed her across the threshold impatiently, eyes focused on Doc standing by the ‘Pick of the Week’ table - Judas Priest - and annoyed that Nicole was just standing in the doorway.  

She could hear “Beth” by Kiss pumping through the overhead speakers, and it made her stomach turn. When Shae’s hand slipped into her own, she had panicked and nearly pulled away.

“Woah, space case,” Shae soothed. “Just me. You know, your girlfriend?” She smiled widely.

Nicole forced her mouth into a shape that felt fake and swallowed past the lump in her throat. 

_ “Me and the boys are playing, and we just can’t find the sound _ ,” Peter Criss crooned.

This week, Mattie has Van Halen playing, and it cuts through Nicole’s chest like a white hot pain. It takes her breath away every time.

“Hiccups?” Wynonna asks.

“Sure,” Nicole says. It’s easier than the truth.

It’s been two weeks of this same feeling, hitting her in the stomach when she least expects it. It happens when Nathan turns on the kitchen radio without warning, and when she picks Wynonna up in the morning, and when Shae sits close to her on the couch during MTV’s  _ Top 20 Video Countdown _ . It happens in the second floor bathroom during third period when Shae pulls her into a stall just to kiss her good morning. It happens at The Patch when Nicole grinds her back teeth together because Champ Hardy is playing Billy Squier’s “Who’s Your Boyfriend” and making eyes at Waverly.

Wynonna nudges her through the door and Van Halen gets louder, like Nicole has a pair of Kenwood LS-407C Loudspeakers in her head.

“ _ And when you sense a change, nothing feels the same _ .” Sammy Hagar sings.

The bell above the door chimes. Nicole turns, her chest tight and her heart hammering. 

“ _ All your dreams are strange. _ ”

The afternoon sun is coming through the glass door, and it blinds Nicole for half a second before it halos behind Shae’s head, her hair curled at the ends and billowing slightly. 

“ _ Love comes walkin' in _ .”

Shae pushes her hair out of her eyes. “Oh, I love Van Halen.” She slips up next to Nicole’s side, her hand sliding into Nicole’s. “Don’t you like them, too?”

Wynonna snorts. “She  _ hates _ Van Halen.” She wrinkles her nose and tips her head to the side, hearing the song playing for the first time. “ _ Especially _ this song.”

Shae frowns. “But didn’t you tell me you loved this song?”

Wynonna frowns now, catching Nicole’s eye. “Maybe I got mixed up,” she says slowly, still staring at Nicole.

Nicole swallows heavily. “Yeah, maybe.”

Shae frowns for another minute before she shrugs one shoulder lightly and leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Nicole’s cheek. “Hi,” she breathes out.

Nicole swallows again before she clears her throat. “Hey.”

Shae’s hand twitches in hers.

“Good morning, ladies,” Doc calls from the counter. “Isn’t it a wonderful morning?”

Nicole glares at him.

Doc puts a hand against his chest apologetically and turns back to Mattie.

“Nicole,” Mattie calls in a greeting. “Girlfriend Shae.”

Shae smiles brightly at Mattie, her hand still in Nicole’s. She tugs gently, pulling Nicole past the ‘Metal’ and ‘Pop’ section and down around Mattie’s extensive ‘Blues’ and ‘Folk’ section. She settles in the middle of the ‘Country’ section, the tapes as pristine as the ‘Rock’ table; it’s her second best seller, she told Nicole once.

From here, the large cardboard cutout of Elvis hides them from the counter. Nicole can still see the tip of Doc’s hat and Wynonna’s hair and the corner of Mattie’s magazine -  _ Smash Hits _ this week. 

Shae toes the floor and smiles shyly, looking up at Nicole through her eyelashes. “Hi,” she breathes out again.

Something softens inside Nicole’s chest and she lets herself smile back. “Hey,” she says quietly.

“Are you okay?” Shae asks. She squints, trying to catch Nicole’s eyes.

Nicole swallows and nods, the movement jerky and unfamiliar. “I’m fine,” she says, the lie sticking to the back of her teeth. 

Shae looks at her for a moment longer, eyes clouded. “Okay,” she finally says. Her hand trails along Nicole’s jawline, two fingers resting at the bottom of her chin. She leans in, but pauses, her eyes darting down to Nicole’s lips before they go back to her eyes.

“Love Walks In” changes to “Never Surrender” and Nicole can breathe again.

“I’m fine,” she says again, the truth rolling off her tongue easily.

Shae’s lips stretch in a smile. “Okay.” She leans in a little closer, her nose bumping against Nicole’s.

Nicole’s eyes flutter closed as Shae kisses her. The world fades away - the lights and the music of Mattie’s dim into muted colors and noises. Her hands flutter at Shae’s waist before they settle on the hem of her Bret Michaels shirt, twisting the cotton around her knuckles.

She feels Shae’s mouth open, and Nicole shivers a little at the new sensation. 

Shae pulls back, her forehead resting against Nicole’s. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, and it ghosts against Nicole’s. “Hey, I was wondering if-”

“We know what you’re doing back there!” Wynonna shouts casually.

Nicole startles, pulling Shae closer.

Shae laughs and rests her forehead on Nicole’s shoulder for a moment before she straightens up and presses a kiss to Nicole’s cheek. “She’s kind of-”

“Quit scamming on Shae and get  _ over _ here,” Wynonna calls.

Nicole jumps again. She grabs the first two cassettes she can reach and steps back around the end of the table, holding them up and scowling. “I wasn’t  _ scamming _ on Shae,” she growls. 

“What were you doing, then?” Wynonna asks, smirking.

“Picking out tapes,” Nicole says, holding her hands up again.

Wynonna grabs for the tapes as soon as Nicole is close enough. She reads the covers and starts laughing, doubling over before she wipes at her eyes and straightens up. “George Strait and Merle Haggard?” She laughs again.

Nicole grits her teeth and grabs the tapes, holding them tightly against her chest. “I’m expanding my horizons.”

Wynonna laughs harder.

Doc fights a smile. “I do enjoy a good ‘Honky Tonk Downstairs’ two-step.”

“Get bent,” Nicole mutters. 

The bell chimes as the door opens and Nicole’s heart stutters. 

It’s not Waverly, though, just like it wasn’t her last week.

It’s an older guy, his eyes searching the store hurriedly. “Love songs,” he says, his voice rushed. “I need love songs.”

Mattie arches an eyebrow slowly and points at the table on his right. 

“ _ Love songs _ ,” he breathes out. He picks the first tape off the table and carries it to the counter. He pulls a few bills out of his pocket and dumps it into Mattie’s hand.

“Thanks for your-” Mattie stops abruptly as the guy grabs the tape, turns, and pushes out the door as quickly as he came in. 

Wynonna follows him to the door and turns, scowling at the Valentine’s Day Display near the front door. It’s all pink and red hearts, surrounding a few Barry White tapes. Wynonna picks one up and reads the back. 

“It's Ecstasy When You Lay Down Next To Me,” she recites. She looks up and pretends to gag. “Barf me out. Valentine’s Day is the  _ worst _ .”

Nicole nods slightly. 

“I don’t know,” Shae sighs. “It’s kind of romantic.”

Mattie sighs, her chin in her hand as she leans forward. “When I went to Purgatory High, we had a Valentine’s Day Dance.” She points a finger at Wynonna. “You know, I danced with your Uncle Curtis. This was before Gus,” she adds.

Wynonna makes a face. “Curtis has two left feet.”

Nicole laughs, remembering how Curtis used to sweep Wynonna up and out of her chair, parading her around the kitchen to anything that came on the radio. When Wynonna finally got away from him, he’d convince Gus to give it a go. Waverly would sigh dreamily and lean into Nicole’s side as they disappeared into the hallway and out of sight, their laughs echoing throughout the house.

“He always did,” Mattie agrees. “Stepped on mine so many times I had to sit down and ice them with the cubes from the fruit punch they had.”

Nicole shudders. “That’s grody.”

Doc leans an elbow against the counter. “I believe they are holding a dance this year, as well,” he says casually.

Wynonna snorts. “As  _ if _ ."

“A multitude of people will be attending,” Doc continues.

“A lot,” Nicole says when Wynonna looks at her.

Wynonna nods and looks back at Doc. “Well then a ‘ _ multitude _ ’ of people are hosers.” She elbows Nicole. “There’s no way we’re going to that.”

Nicole shakes her head firmly. “No, thank youuuu,” she sings.

“Oh,” Shae exhales softly.

Nicole’s eyes widen. “Oh?”

“Well,” Shae says slowly. “Nothing,” she finally says.

Nicole looks at her for a moment. “Okay,” she says, looking back down at the two cassettes in her hand.  _ Country _ ? she asks herself.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go with me,” Shae continues.

Nicole’s head snaps up. “What?”

“To the Valentine’s Day Dance,” Shae continues. “It’s Friday. Beth Gardner is in my study hall, and she’s selling tickets.” Shae looks at the ground and shrugs a shoulder. “I bought two tickets, and I was going to ask you to come with me.”

Nicole swallows heavily.

“But if you don’t want to go,” Shae continues quietly. She looks up at Nicole, her eyes dark and clouded.

It’s the same look she had on her face two weeks ago, when Waverly walked away. It’s the same look Shae had in her eyes when Nicole took those steps away from her and towards the door Waverly was walking out of. That same look is back, and it’s  _ more _ now - more confusion and more fear and more wet at the corners. 

“Okay,” she hears herself say.

Shae’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Okay,” Nicole repeats.

The look in Shae’s eyes fade slowly. “Yeah?” she asks hesitantly.

“Yes,” Nicole breathes out.

Shae smiles and her eyes sparkle. She reaches up, lacing her fingers behind Nicole’s neck. “Do you know how to dance?”

_ Waverly showed me where my hands are supposed to go _ , she thinks. After she made the junior cheerleading squad, Waverly got invited to a party and when she got back at the end of the night, she told Nicole all about it.

“No,” she had said, grabbing Nicole’s hands. She placed them on her waist. “They go here.”

“Champ had his hands  _ here _ ?” Nicole asked, an edge to her voice.

Waverly giggled. “Isn’t it, like, clutch?”

“I’m gonna  _ clutch _ his-”

Waverly laughed and twirled in a circle.

Nicole shakes her head now, unable to trust her voice.

Shae’s face blurs as she comes in closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” she promises.

Wynonna makes a loud gagging noise behind them. Nicole feels her face flush, but Shae slides her hands down around Nicole’s waist and lets Nicole turn in her arms, leaning back against her. 

“Hoser,” Wynonna says, hiding the word in a cough. She slaps the back of her palm against Doc’s shoulder. “Thank god we’re not like that, huh?”

Doc clears his throat and takes off his hat, resting it gently on the counter. “Well,” he starts. “I was going to inquire-”

“Ask,” Nicole says quickly.

“If you didn’t mind accompanying me to the Valentine’s Day Dance,” Doc continues.

“Accompany means-”

“I know what it means,” Wynonna growls. She puts her hands on her hips. “Doc, come on. You don’t really want to go to that molded dance.”

Doc strokes his fingers over the small moustache forming on above his upper lip. “I assure you, I’d like nothing more than to take you.”

Nicole stifles the laugh bubbling in her chest, turning her head to hide it in Shae’s arm, still wrapped around her.

“Doc,” Wynonna hisses. 

Doc pauses. “Ah. I see,” he says slowly. “Well, I suppose I can return my tickets, then.” 

“Oh, shiz nits,” Wynonna groans. 

Doc ducks his head, glancing up when Wynonna looks away. He meets Nicole’s eyes and winks. 

Wynonna scrubs a hand down over her face. “What’s the dress code for this thing?”   
  


-

Gus lowers her Polaroid camera and frowns. “Waverly, if you’re going to pout like that, can you move off the steps? Your sister is in a dress and I’m not wasting this opportunity.”

Wynonna sticks her tongue out in Gus’s direction.

Nicole elbows her.

Waverly huffs and pushes up off the front steps, stomping across the lawn and coming to a stop next to Gus. She lifts a hand against the glare of the setting sun, but it splashes across her face and lights her up.

Nicole sucks in a breath sharply.

Wynonna looks over at her and nods. “I get it.”

“You-you do?” Nicole asks.

Wynonna nods. “I feel like a monkey with her taking pictures like that.”

“Oh,” Nicole says dumbly. “Right.”

Wynonna puts a comforting hand on Nicole’s arm, just below the sleeve of her freshly-ironed button-up shirt. She convinced her mom to take her to the Sears at the mall on Wednesday to get a new shirt, but ended up in one of Nathan’s old ones.

Her mom lingered at the girls section for a few minutes until Nicole got frustrated and grabbed the nearest button up shirt she could find. “No, mom,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I want to wear  _ this _ .” 

“Are you sure?” her mom asked.

Nicole nodded firmly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Not that one,” her mom said after a minute. 

Nicole frowned. “But-”

Her mom reached past her and picked the next button up off the rack. “Blue is a better color for you, baby. It looks good with your hair.” She reached out and touched the ends of Nicole’s hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “So. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Nicole paused, chewing on her bottom lip. She swallowed nervously. “A-a  _ girl _ .”

Her mom chuckled softly. “Honey. You were singing that one Whitney Houston song the other day, the one that goes, “ _ How will I know, if he’s thinking of me _ ,” she sang softly.

Nicole nodded. “Right, if-”

“But you were singing “ _ if she’s thinking of me _ ,” her mom continued. She poked her finger gently into Nicole’s cheek. “And that dimple you have shows every time you say the name ‘Shae’.”

Nicole felt her face flush and she ducked her head. 

Her mom laughed and picked another shirt off the rack, tipping her head to the side as she studied it. “So do I get to meet her?”

“You’re… You’re  _ okay _ with it?” Nicole asked, her mouth dry.

Her mom hummed softly, glancing at her. She sighed and put the maroon shirt in her hand back, the metal hanger scratching against the metal rack. “I’m going to tell you what your grandfather told me when I was your age.” She rested her hands on Nicole’s shoulders, pulling all of her attention. “Your only job in this world is to be happy. Whoever makes you happy, whatever makes you happy - that’s what you focus on.”

“My only job,” Nicole echoed.

“That,” her mom said. “And picking up your room every once in a while.”

Nicole wrinkled her nose. “Grandpa Peter said that?”

“No,” her mom admitted. “I did. But it’s true.” She took a deep breath and straightened up, eyes scanning the endless racks of boys button up shirts. “What color is Shae wearing? Are you going to match?”

Nicole’s eyes widened. “Are we supposed to?”

Her mom laughed and began pulling shirts off the racks, piling them into Nicole’s arms.

Nicole swats at Wynonna’s hand. “Don’t touch it,” she scolds. “It took me forever to iron it.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes, pulling her hand back against her body. “I thought you were getting a new shirt.”

Nicole sighs. “None of them fit right. They were all too loose here,” she says, rubbing at her shoulder. “And too tight… there.” Her eyes dart down to her chest.

Wynonna squints, trying to figure out what she means. It takes a second, but her eyes widen and she nods. “Aces. But don’t be such a Poindexter about it. You look  _ fine _ .”

Nicole looks down, panicking. “Fine? No. No, I need to look-”

“Look here!” Gus hollers. “You two are going to be late if you don’t get it together.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and faces Gus, her mouth stretching wide in a fake smile. Nicole stands still, too nervous to open her mouth in a smile. She’s convinced she might throw up in Gus’s flowers instead.

A few more clicks and directions, and Gus finally puts down the camera. 

Wynonna immediately grabs her bike, hitching the hem of her dress up high enough that she can swing a leg over the frame of her Motomag. She winks at Waverly. “Don’t wait up for us.”

Waverly scowls, baring her teeth in Wynonna’s direction.

Nicole rubs at the back of her neck, the motion of her arm catching Waverly’s attention. Something in Waverly’s eye’s soften for a minute and then harden again. Nicole looks away, her chest tightening.

“Don’t get all red because Chump isn’t bringing you to the dance,” Wynonna says loudly, wheeling up and down the driveway.

“Rules are  _ rules _ ,” Waverly says, her teeth grinding together. “And you can’t bring 8th graders. He said.”

Nicole thinks it might be a lie; she’s pretty sure she overheard Kyle asking Stephanie Jones to be his date. But Waverly still won’t talk to her - still won’t be ride to school with them and still won’t serve their table at The Patch and still hasn’t asked Nicole if she wants to come over and watch  _ Video Hits _ and Nicole doesn’t even know if Waverly is recording episodes for her anymore. So she doesn’t say anything. 

Wynonna scoffs. “Too bad Nicole has a girlfriend,” she says.

Nicole’s head snaps up. “What?”

“What?” Waverly echoes.

Wynonna rides in a circle, her attention on the hem of her dress whipping around her pedal. “Well, if she didn’t have Shae, she could have taken you.”

The back of Nicole’s neck feels like it’s on fire, like she stepped too close to the fryers in the kitchen of The Patch and she can feel the hot oil splashing against her neck as it hisses and pops. She looks at Waverly, but she sees her standing there in a blue dress, to match Nicole’s blue shirt, her hair down and crimped, instead of a pair of jeans, a turtleneck, and a side ponytail.

“No,” she says to herself, shaking her head.

_ No _ ,  _ don’t think about that _ .

Waverly’s head turns in her direction at the word. She narrows her eyes, looking over Nicole’s shoulder instead of at her. “Like I’d want to go with her anyway,” she mutters, just loud enough for Nicole to hear.

Nicole feels the corner of her eyes burn. Her Cove Shoe 1985 paratrooper boots sink into the snow as she stomps across the lawn towards her Foiler. “Can we  _ go _ ?” she hisses at Wynonna. 

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “You two need to get over yourselves.”

Nicole gets on her bike, feet poised on the pedals.  _ Like I’d want to go with her anyway _ , Waverly said. It bounces around in her mind, echoing like an announcer at a hockey game. She looks up and Wynonna is staring at her, eyes confused. Nicole looks down at her chest, rising and falling rapidly. She’s breathing hard and she hasn’t even gone anywhere. 

The front door bangs open and Gus is standing on the porch, slinging her keys around and around her finger. “Weather report just aired. It’s gonna rain tonight and I don’t want you out on your bikes if the roads get too slick.”

Wynonna groans, but drops her bike at the top of the driveway.

“You, too, Waverly,” Gus says as she reaches her 1979 Ford Fairmont station wagon. “You’re not staying here by yourself.”

Waverly shakes her head quickly.

Nicole’s stomach turns.

Gus puts a hand on her hip and glares across the lawn. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, little girl. But it stops now. Your attitude is stinking the place up.” She makes a face, almost daring Waverly to say something back. “Now, get in the car.”

Waverly huffs and stomps to the car, pulling open the passenger door and slamming it behind her as she gets in. Wynonna goes to the back of the Fairmont, pulling the hatch open.

Gus shakes her head. “No.”

“We’re going to need to sit back here anyway,” Wynonna argues. “We’re picking up Doc and Shae.”

Gus sighs. “Why isn’t that Holliday boy picking  _ you _ up?”

Wynonna puffs her chest out. “I’m a modern woman."

Gus shakes her head, but Nicole thinks she can see the start of a smile on her face as she looks away. “Fine,” she finally says. She looks at Nicole. “Come on, girl. I want to get back before the Nightly News.”

Nicole tells her feet to get moving, but they won’t budge. Wynonna frowns at her, stuck halfway between in the trunk of the Fairmont and the driveway. Gus sighs heavily, impatient. Nicole’s grip tightens on her handlebars.

Waverly turns in the front seat, up on her knees. “Are we going or what?” she yells through the station wagon.

Nicole startles, dropping her bike on the lawn. Wynonna continues to stare at her as Nicole slowly crosses the driveway and crawls into the hatch, pressing her back against the seat and looking out the window.

Wynonna climbs in beside her and pulls the hatch closed. Gus starts the car and Nicole’s body lurches with the motion.

“Are you okay?” Wynonna asks

Nicole swallows and gives Wynonna a shaky smile. “Sure.”

Waverly turns up the radio. It’s Robert Palmer’s “Addicted To Love,” and Nicole can hear her singing along softly over the sound of the tires rumbling underneath her. 

Wynonna leans over again. “You look like you’re gonna ralph,” she says slowly.

Nicole shakes her head. 

“You’re  _ green _ ,” Wynonna says, her voice filled with awe. She pokes her finger into Nicole’s throat, just below her jaw. “Right here.”

Nicole swats Wynonna’s hand away, grimacing. “Get bent.”

The drive is quick, but bumpy. Nicole digs the tips of her fingers into the leather backseat, trying to keep from falling over as they hit potholes. The wheels hum under her body, and it makes her shake.

When they pull up to a stop sign, Nicole realizes the shaking isn’t because of the wheels beneath her.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Wynonna whispers in her ear.

_ I don’t? _ Nicole thinks.  _ I don’t need to be nervous that I’m going to a school dance with my girlfriend and that your sister is sitting in the front seat glaring at me _ ? She scoffs.  _ I don’t need to be nervous that I’ll freeze up if a Van Halen song comes on? I don’t need to be nervous that Waverly will never speak to me again? _

Wynonna rests a hand on her leg, but Nicole can barely feel it through the rough denim. “Every little thing is gonna be alright.”

Nicole’s mouth falls open. “Did you just… quote  _ Bob Marley _ at me."

Wynonna grins. “Don’t worry, about a thing,” she sings, elbowing Nicole gently. “Shae already likes you. Which will work in your favor in case she wants to dance with you.”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“You’re a bad dancer,” Wynonna says flatly.

“I’m a  _ good _ dancer. Wav-” Nicole stops herself from saying  _ ‘Waverly told me so’ _ . 

Wynonna winks. “Sure you are, Cha-Cha.”

Nicole shakes her head. “She  _ won _ a dance competition.” 

Wynonna rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something. She’s cut off by Gus slowing down and turning into the Pressman’s driveway. “That was quick,” she says instead. 

_ Too quick _ , Nicole thinks as Wynonna pulls at the handle and pushes the hatch open. 

“I’m going to get Doc,” Wynonna declares, sliding out of the back of the station wagon and heading down the driveway. Doc’s house is just a few down from Shae’s, and Gus turns in the front seat to be able to see Wynonna start down the road.

Nicole stands helplessly in the driveway. Shae’s dad’s Mercury Zephyr is sitting in the driveway, and all of the house lights are burning. 

_Do I go to the back door or the front_ , she wonders. She remembers in all of those movies Waverly made her watch that the boy was outside the front door, leaning cool and casual against the railing or sitting on the top of a 1983 Porsche 944.

_ The front door _ , she decides. She smoothes her shirt down and makes sure it’s evenly tucked on all sides. The tops of her Cove boots shine back up at her when she looks down. There’s a sharp crease in her pants that she painstakingly ironed in earlier.

She’s pretty sure she’s going to ralph. 

“Go ahead, girl,” Gus says encouragingly. She’s rolled the front window down and turned the radio low. She’s leaning out of the open window, smiling softly. “Pretend like we’re not even here.”

Nicole’s eyes skate past Gus and rest on Waverly sitting in the passenger seat. She has her arms crossed over her chest and she’s staring out the windshield, eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. 

_ Yeah, right, _ she thinks to herself.  _ Like you’re not even here _ .

She climbs the steps slowly, her feet feeling heavy and sluggish. The back of her neck burns, like Waverly is staring right through her. She takes a deep breath, the air catching in the middle of her throat and nearly choking her.

The doorbell gives under her finger, even though she wasn’t ready to press it yet. She stumbles back a step, eyes wide.

“No, no, no,” she chants softly. 

It’s too late; she can hear footsteps running through the house and Shae shouting, “I got it!” 

Nicole takes a deep breath and shoves her shaking hand into the pocket of the pants she’s wearing. She looks down, suddenly terrified. What if she wore the wrong pair of jeans. 

“Oh, shiz nits,” she breathes out. “What if I wore the wrong shirt?”

“I like it,” someone says quietly.  

Nicole’s head snaps up. “Oh,” she breathes out.

Shae pushes the screen door open, the hinges creaking noisily. “It’s a little big.”

“It’s Nathan’s,” Nicole says helplessly. 

Shae reaches out and runs the tips of her fingers from Nicole’s shoulder, down her arm, and over the lip of the cuff. Her fingers catch and unfold the cuff slightly. 

Nicole swears she hears Waverly gasp from the front seat. 

Shae’s eyes widen. “Oh, I didn’t mean-”

Nicole rests her hand over Shae’s, squeezing gently to stop her. “It’s okay.”

Now Nicole  _ knows _ she hears Waverly gasp.

“I can fix it,” Nicole continues. “No problem.”

Shae smiles softly and ducks her head, her cheeks red. 

“And it’s not a 1973 Corvette Stingray,” she starts, apologetically.

Shae sighs dramatically. “You know how badly I wanted you to show up in one.”

Nicole laughs. “Gus’s station wagon is a ‘79. Does that count?”

Shae laughs. “No way. Stingray or nothing.”

Nicole had immediately regretted telling Wynonna that Shae invited her over one night to watch  _ Corvette Summer _ .

“Oh. My.  _ God _ ,” Wynonna had whispered. “Operation: Corvette Summer turned into Makeout: Corvette Summer.”

Nicole flushed. “We didn’t make out.”

Wynonna pointed her finger at Nicole’s red cheeks. “You  _ totally _ made out! To  _ Corvette Summer _ !” She pauses. “She totally put the moves on you when ‘Give Me The Night’ came on, didn’t she?”

Nicole scoffed and looked away, across the living room and towards the kitchen where she could hear Waverly banging pots and pans around as she put the dishes away. “You Looking at Me, Looking at You” she muttered.

Wynonna had whooped loud enough that Waverly poked her head into the living room, frowned, and disappeared back into the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Shae says, her voice going flat. “Waverly’s here.”

Nicole looks back over her shoulder for a second, frowning. “Gus said it’s going to rain, so we couldn’t ride our bikes.”

“And she had to come?”

There’s an edge to Shae’s voice that Nicole doesn’t recognize or like. She rests her hands on Shae’s waist, brushing her thumb against the fabric of Shae’s dress. “We’re riding in the back?” Nicole offers.

Shae blinks and the look in her eyes disappears. Her shoulders drop as she breathes out. “Sorry,” she says quietly. “I just know she’s still mad at you, and you’re really worried about it, and I was hoping-” She cuts herself off and shakes her head. “It’s no big.”

“We can walk?” Nicole tries. 

“No, no.” Shae exhales slowly. “You don’t deserve to feel bad for being happy,” she says quietly.

Nicole feels a flash of irritation come over her. “I don’t feel  _ bad _ .”

“Yes, you do,” Shae says kindly. 

Nicole wants to tell her that she has it all wrong; that she doesn’t feel bad for being happy, but she feels bad for not saying anything before Waverly found out. She feels bad for lying to Wynonna when she asked why Nicole wouldn’t tell Waverly about getting a girlfriend. She feels bad for wanting Waverly to talk to her when she knows that Waverly is being a big time hoser.

But Shae thinks she’s being helpful, naming a feeling she thinks Nicole can’t. So Nicole swallows back everything she wants to say and nods instead.

Shae sighs. “I just wanted to have a fun night. My mom got me this dress in the city and you’re in a nice pair of jeans. I just want to listen to bad music and laugh at Champ Hardy when he tries to do the Robot.” She strokes her thumb across Nicole’s wrist, sliding her hand down until their fingers lace. “Can we just do that?”

“Okay,” Nicole breathes out. 

Shae smiles, wide and bright in the evening sun. She leans in and her nose brushes against Nicole’s before their lips meet.

Nicole feels herself relax. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows Waverly is probably disgusted right now. But the rolling in her stomach, the one that starts up when she thinks of Waverly hating her, fades into something else. Shae’s mouth opens and it’s still so new that Nicole still shivers slightly. But it pushes everything out of her mind except Shae - just Shae and her hands resting hot against Nicole’s waist and her mouth burning against Nicole’s and her pretty, red crushed velvet dress under Nicole’s hands. 

“Get a room!”

Nicole pulls away, her cheeks flushed. 

Wynonna is leaning against the side of Gus’s Fairmont, tapping her foot impatiently. Doc is next to her, smiling widely under the brim of his hat. 

“Are you done-”

“If you say ‘scamming’ one more time,” Nicole interrupts.

Wynonna grins. “You’ll what?”

Nicole waits until she’s across the lawn and in front of Wynonna before she lowers her voice and leans in close. “Or I’ll tell Gus how Doc keeps getting into your room at night. And how  _ you _ keep getting out.”

“You wouldn’t,” Wynonna breathes.

“Do you know that for sure?” Nicole asks.

Wynonna pauses. “You’re such a Roller.”

“Someday,” Nicole promises. “Someday I will be.”

Wynonna steps back, pointing her finger in Nicole’s direction. “I’ll remember this. You’ll pay for it.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and doesn’t jump when Shae’s hand slides into her own.

“Sometime this decade,” Gus says through the window.

Doc opens the back hatch and lets Wynonna in first. 

Nicole climbs into the station wagon, pressing herself back into the corner again. She knows Waverly is in the front seat - she can feel her all the time - but she pushes Waverly out of her mind and focuses all of her attention on Shae.

“Sunglasses At Night” comes on the radio, Corey Hart’s voice smooth through the speakers.

Wynonna leans over the back seat. “Turn it up!”

Waverly scowls, but reaches over and twists the dial.

They sing “Sunglasses at Night” at the top of their lungs. Nicole forget that she’s in the back of the car Waverly is riding in. She forgets that Nathan’s shirt is too big and the sleeve didn’t fold right the second time. She forgets that everything outside of this moment feels like it’s falling apart.

Her girlfriend is holding her hand and they’re singing Corey Hart and everything feels  _ good _ .

When they pull up to the school, Nicole climbs out of the hatch, offering Shae her hand.

“I’ll be back at 9:30, sharp,” Gus says, leaning out of the front window again. She looks pointedly in Wynonna’s direction. “No sneaking out of the dance, and no going home on any boy’s motorbike.”

“You drove him here,” Wynonna reminds her.

“I know how boys think,” Gus fires back.

Doc steps forward, taking off his hat and holding it against his chest. “With all due respect, Mrs. McCready,” he starts. “I can assure you, I am the most-”

“Save it, Holliday,” Gus interrupts. “Don’t think I don’t know that you know how to start any one of the cars in that parking lot.” She narrows her eyes. “I have eyes, watching you.”

Nicole scoffs when Doc and Wynonna both look at her. “What? You think it’s  _ me _ ?”

Shae leans into her, hooking a finger through Nicole’s belt loop. Nicole shivers. 

Wynonna nods. “It’s  _ totally _ you.”

Nicole rolls her eyes and looks away. When she looks back at Wynonna, she catches Gus’s eyes and shakes her head subtly. Her eyes skate past Gus, to Waverly still glaring in the passenger seat, and her stomach turns over.

The door opens, and “Don’t You Want Me Baby” echoes from inside the gym, pouring out into the open air. Nicole can see through the open doors - the lights are dimmed and there’s red and pink balloons drifting listlessly in circles.

Someone laughs. Someone else sings along with Philip Oakey.

“ _ Don’t you want me baby? Don’t you want me, ohhhhh.” _

“Well,” Wynonna says. “I thought this was a party?”

Shae grins widely, bumping her shoulder against Nicole’s. “Let’s dance!”

 

-

The gymnasium looks like the inside of a piñata. There’s pieces of pink and white and red paper all over the floor, pink and red streamers on the wall, and paper hearts scattered on the tables in the corner. The tablecloths on the long punch table are a pale pink - they look like maybe they were red, back in 1886. 

“Oh, god,” she mutters.

“Oh, god,” Shae breathes out.

Wynonna comes to a stop. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Nicole immediately grabs her arm, fingers locking tightly around Wynonna’s wrist. “You’re not going anywhere,” she hisses. 

The room is dark - the only lights are the ones over the punch tables and the small disco balls hanging from the ceiling in random order. They catch the overhead lights as they spin, throwing sparking dots of light in every direction. One of them catches in Shae’s hair, and Nicole feels something in her chest tighten.

Shae squeezes her other hand. “Isn’t this great?”

Nicole can’t lie and say it’s not; not when Shae is smiling so wide and the light is just perfect and the song is asking “ _ don’t you want me, baby _ ?”

She smiles softly and squeezes Shae’s hand instead. 

Human League fades out and there’s a fifteen second lull of speaker silence where all Nicole can hear is the roaring in her ears. She’s with her  _ girlfriend _ at the  _ Valentine’s Day Dance _ and she’s going to make this  _ the best night ever _ . 

Then Don Henley is kicking on, and Shae is tugging at her arm, trying to get her onto the dance floor.

Nicole tries to drag her feet, rocking back so the heels of her boots don’t move against the sticky gym floor. “I can’t dance,” she argues. 

Wynonna and Doc fade into the crowd. Nicole scans the gym, spotting something that looks like Doc’s hat in a shadowy corner.  

Perry Crofte slips past her, his hand in Cora Odam’s as she pulls him towards the punch table. He catches Nicole’s eye and gives her a thumbs up before he disappears into the swell of the crowd. 

“ _ They're pickin' up the prisoners, and puttin 'em in a pen. And all she wants to do is dance, dance _ ,” Don Henley sings. 

“ _ Rebels been rebels since I don't know when, and all she wants to do is dance _ ,” Shae breathes into her ear. 

Every thought in her head fades. 

The image of Waverly standing in the doorway of Mattie’s, eyes wide and confused - and then angry - dims until there’s nothing left behind. 

Nicole forgets about crying herself to sleep; about wanting to unspool the mixtape she was keeping under her pillow; about taking the corner seat in the booths at The Patch so she can see Waverly, but Waverly doesn’t have to look at her; about Waverly hating her for forever and moving away after graduation or going to college and never coming back; about Waverly kissing Champ in her bedroom until her hair came undone. 

Shae is in a red dress and she’s swaying side to side, singing under her breath and tapping one foot against the wood floor, and Nicole makes a decision:  _ she’s going to enjoy this _ .

“ _ Molotov cocktail, the local drink, and all she wants to do is dance, dance _ ,” Shae sings.

“ _ They mix 'em up right in the kitchen sink, and all she wants to do is dance _ ,” Nicole joins in. She grins when Shae’s head snaps around. “You want to dance?” she asks, shouting into Shae’s ear.

Shae pulls back and nods excitedly, grabbing Nicole’s hand and pulling her through the swarm of bodies that Perry and Cora just dove into. Nicole thinks she sees Champ, but she ignores him and focuses on Shae instead, letting Shae pull her close as they find a space on the dance floor. 

They dance until Nicole can’t feel her feet. They dance through “We Belong” by Pat Benatar and “Raspberry Beret” by Prince and The Revolution and Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want To Have Fun.” Shae dances close, her arms above her head and her hair all over the place. Nicole jumps around, trying to remember how John Travolta danced in  _ Grease _ . Shae laughs when Nicole nearly trips, her hands landing on Shae’s waist to hold herself up. 

Sometime during “The Safety Dance,” Wynonna hip-checks her into Shae and laughs, throwing her head back. Doc tips his hat and joins them, throwing his body up and down like Chris Penn in  _ Footloose _ . Wynonna ducks, trying to avoid his arms as he snaps them in time to his movements.

Nicole looks up as Shae laughs and throws her hands up, trying to get him to stop so she can show him the ‘hustle.’ She catches Nicole’s eyes and smiles wide, the disco ball catching in her hair and staying there like before.

“Can’t Fight This Feeling” comes on and Nicole inhales sharply.

Curtis said that love feels like hearing the right song at the right time while the right girl smiles at you.

Nicole just doesn’t know what it feels like when a song you really like comes on at a time that’s really good and a girl you really like smiles at you.

_ It’s not love _ , Nicole tells herself.  _ But it’s something like it _ . 

Shae’s hands are hot as they rest on her waist for a moment. “Is this okay?” she asks.

Nicole hesitates.

Shae smiles easily. “It’s okay,” she says, moving her hands. They flutter somewhere around Nicole’s collar before they slide around her neck and lace at the base of Nicole’s head, brushing against the small hairs there. “Better?”

Nicole nods. “Yeah,” she breathes out, letting her hands rest on Shae’s hips. Over Shae’s shoulder, she can see Wynonna reluctantly looping her hands around Doc’s neck, tipping his hat back enough to see his face 

Everyone is coupled up on the dance floor. The people who didn’t bring a date or ask anyone to dance hang around the punch table or in the corners, leaning against the bleachers that are pushed up against one side of the wall. 

“ _ Oh, I can't fight this feeling any longer. And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow. What started out this friendship has grown stronger. I only wish I had the strength to let it show _ ,” Kevin Cronin sings. 

“This is clutch, isn’t it?” Shae asks.

Nicole bites down on her bottom lip. “I’m not a good dancer,” she admits.

Shae rolls her eyes and steps closer, the tips of her shoes against Nicole’s. “You’re doing fine.”

“ _ Cause I feel so secure when we're together. You give my life direction, you make everything so clear _ .”

Nicole’s hands flex against the small of Shae’s back, her fingers tingling.

“This is kind of our song,” Shae says. 

Nicole frowns. “It is?”

“ _ And even as I wander I'm keeping you in sight. You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night. And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might _ .”

Shae nods, her breath hot against Nicole’s cheek. “This song makes me feel the way you make me feel. I think it makes this  _ our song _ .”

“But we kissed to ‘Never Surrender’,” Nicole says.

Shae shrugs. “That’s not a good song, though.”

_ That’s not how it works _ , she thinks. 

Shae’s thumb brushes against the side of her neck. “We kissed to ‘Never Surrender’, but that song… it doesn’t make me feel like I’m on fire, you know?”

Nicole smiles at that.  _ That _ , she understands. “So ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’ makes you feel on fire?”

“ _ You _ make me feel like that,” Shae corrects. “And this song is the closest feeling I can get to you.”

Nicole smiles wider. Shae gets it. Shae understands the music. Shae knows how a song can grab you by the heart and yank hard until you feel every single note, every sigh the lead singer breathes into the microphone. Shae gets why it’s the singer, not the song. Shae feels music the same way Nicole does.

_ Waverly doesn’t feel music that way _ , she thinks bitterly.

Nicole startles, the thought catching her off guard. 

Shae pulls back, eyes pulled down in concern. “You okay?”

Nicole nods slowly. “So it’s our song,” she says.

“‘ _ Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I started fighting for. And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door… Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore _ ,” Shae sings in her ear.

“It’s our song,” Nicole repeats firmly, smiling at Shae. 

“So be it,” Shae agrees, smiling back. 

“ _ My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you. I've been running around in circles in my mind. _ ”

Shae leans in. “I’ve never met anyone like you before, Nicole Haught. You’re  _ amazing _ .” She wets her bottom lip and closes the distance between them, kissing Nicole softly.

She can’t keep track of how many kisses she’s had, but this one tastes like the peppermint Wynonna found in the back of the station wagon and offered Shae. It tastes like something close to-

“Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore” is swallowed up in the next song - “Shout” by Tears for Fears - and the cheer ripping through the crowd. Nicole leans in close, her lips against Shae’s cheek. “Drink,” she rasps. She slips off the dancefloor, heading for the punch table. She tugs at the collar of her shirt, trying to cool herself down.

“ _ You’re amazing, _ ” echoes in her mind like a ping-pong ball. 

The whole floor is pulsing and everyone is jumping around, sweating and screaming. It’s cooler by the punch table, and Nicole can breathe there. She lets her eyes close for a second, one hand on the ladle and the other holding a cup.

“That shirt is a little big on you,” someone whispers into Nicole’s ear. 

Nicole jumps, the ladle in her hand sliding back into the punch bowl. She groans, peering down into the Kool-Aid red liquid; she’s not reaching in there to get it out, and there goes her chance at a drink. She looks over her shoulder at the body hovering behind her. “What do you want, Mercedes?”

Mercedes Gardner smirks and leans one hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s in a dress that dips low at the neck and rests high on her hips. Nicole loses track of what she’s thinking about as her eyes travel over the the curve of Mercedes’s calf.

“Eyes up, Casanova.”

Nicole feels her face flush. “I wasn’t-”

“I don’t care if you were,” Mercedes interrupts. “But  _ your girlfriend _ might.”

Nicole’s eyes skate over Mercedes’s shoulder and find Shae in the crowd, dancing in a circle to “Walkin’ On Sunshine.” Wynonna is laughing with her, and Doc is doing some odd shuffle.

“Oh, Loverboy,” Mercedes sighs.

Nicole turns back to Mercedes. “Loverboy?”

“You know, the Billy Ocean song.  _ Want to be your lover lover lover boy _ ,” Mercedes sings. “That’s  _ exactly  _ the way you’re looking at Shae Pressman right now.”

“No, I’m not,” Nicole says defensively.

“You are,” Mercedes insists. “There might even be actual hearts in your eyes.”

Nicole scoffs and looks away, glancing down at the crystalized plastic cup in her hand to check her reflection. “No, I don’t,” she says.  

Mercedes ignores her and scans the crowd. “Is your brother here?”

“Nathan?” Nicole asks, wrinkling her nose.

“No,” Mercedes says flatly. “Your other brother,  _ Reginald _ .”

Nicole narrows her eyes. “Okay,  _ Susan _ , you listen-”

“Yes,” Mercedes says, frustrated. “Nathan.”

Nicole shrugs. “I don’t know. I got ready at Wynonna’s.”

“Did he say he was coming?” 

Nicole frowns. “Why does it matter?”

Mercedes blinks at her. “It doesn’t. I was just asking. Don’t get all twisted about it, Loverboy.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. She opens her mouth to fire back at Mercedes when the song changes - “Walking on Sunshine” giving way to “Crazy For You.” Two arms wind around her waist, and Shae rests her chin on Nicole’s shoulder.

“I love this song,” Shae says. “Come dance with me.”

Mercedes winks. “You heard her, Loverboy. Go dance.”

Shae tips her head to the side, her lips brushing Nicole’s cheek. “Loverboy? Like the Billy Ocean song?”

Mercedes smiles. “See? She gets it.”

“Come dance,” Shae murmurs against her cheek. “Please?”

Nicole puts down the cup she never drank from and turns, nudging Shae back towards the dance floor. “Let’s get away from her before her hair spontaneously combusts.”

Mercedes gasps, reaching up to pat the large poof of her hair. “You’re just jealous.”

“Sure,” Nicole throws over her shoulder as she keeps pushing Shae towards the last spot they danced in. She winds her arms around Shae’s waist and pulls her close, their hips pressed together. 

“ _ Strangers making the most of the dark. Two by two their bodies become one _ ,” Madonna sings.

Shae sings along, breathing the words into her ear, her hands hot against Nicole’s waist before they slide up her sides and around the back of her neck. 

Nicole laughs and shudders, twisting in Shae’s arms to try and escape the sensation.

_ “Can't you feel the weight of my stare.” _

Out of the corner of her eye, Nicole sees someone cross through the stream of light. She thinks maybe it’s Nathan, or Perry, or someone else she knows, but then they’re gone and she’s left with a perfect view of the bleachers; of Champ leaning against them with one hand on Stephanie Jones’s thigh and his tongue down her throat.

She pauses, Shae swaying softly to the side without her.

“That  _ son-of-a-bitch. _ ”

“What?” Shae asks.

Nicole leans to the side as someone steps in her way, her eyes finding Champ easily. Stephanie is wearing his football jacket, the sleeves hanging down over her hands. Champ’s hand, the one not creeping up Stephanie’s thigh, is winding through her hair.

Nicole imagines the way he wove his hands through Waverly’s hair upstairs in her room when no one was home, and she sees red. She pulls out of Shae’s arms and starts pushing through the crowd, eyes narrowed in on Champ and Stephanie.

“Hey, Nicole,” Nathan says, stepping in front of her. “Was  _ Mercedes Gardner _ asking about me?”

Nicole elbows him to the side and keeps moving past him.

“Woah,” she hears someone say behind her. A slim hand grabs her by the arm and tugs hard, spinning her around.

“ _ I'm crazy for you. Touch me once and you'll know it's true. _ ”

Shae is frowning at her. “What’s your beef?”

Nicole tries to turn, but Shae’s grip is too tight. “Champ,” she finally manages to say, her back teeth grinding against each other. “I’m going to turn him into road pizza.”

Shae’s frown deepens. “What?”

“ _ I never wanted anyone like this. It's all brand new, you'll feel it in my kiss. _ ”

Nicole hooks her thumb over her shoulder in Champ’s direction. “Champ Hardy has his hand up Stephanie Jones’s dress and his  _ tongue _ down her throat.”

“So?” Shae aks.

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “ _ So _ ? He’s dating  _ Waverly _ Just the other day, he was making out with  _ Waverly _ .”

Shae’s frown fades, her jaw dropping slightly. “Oh,” she says. “That’s what this is about?”

“ _ I'm crazy for you, crazy for you. _ ”

Nicole pulls back a little. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what this is about?” Shae asks again. “It’s about her?”

Nicole shakes her head. “You’re not even making sense right now.” She turns her head and looks back - Champ is still in the same spot, oblivious to the anger Nicole is radiating in his direction. When she turns back, Shae is still staring at her.

_ “Soon we two are standing still in time. If you read my mind, you'll see.” _

“No,” Shae says calmly. “It makes perfect sense.”

Nicole sighs. “Listen, I know you want to dance, okay? But just let me go over there and pound his face down and then we can keep dancing.”

“Do you even want to dance with me?” Shae asks.

Nicole blinks. “ _ What _ ?”

“Or do you want to be here with  _ her _ ?” Shae continues.

The back of Nicole’s neck flares, a flash of heat racing down her spine. “Wh-what?” she asks again.

Shae steps closer, her hand loosening around Nicole’s arm. 

“I just want Champ to understand that he can’t-”

“Can’t what?” Shae cuts in. “Kiss Waverly?”

Nicole pauses. “Well, no. Not when he’s also kissing Stephanie Jones.”

“And not when  _ you _ want to be kissing Waverly,” Shae says calmly.

Nicole shakes her head. “No. I don’t-”

“Think I’m that much an airhead that I’d believe you if you said you don’t want to kiss Waverly?” Shae interrupts.

Nicole steps closer, their noses brushing. “Stop saying that.”

“ _ It's all brand new, I'm crazy for you. _ ”

Shae’s eyes move quickly as they look over Nicole’s face. “Why? Because it’s true?” she asks, her voice softer.

_ Yes _ , Nicole thinks.

“No,” Nicole says.

Shae shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.” She takes a step back. “I don’t.”

“ _ And you know it's true, I'm crazy, crazy for you. _ ”

“Shae, wait,” Nicole calls.

Shae ignores her, disappearing into the crowd of people that swallows her up as Madonna switches to George Michael’s “Careless Whisper.”

They sit at opposite ends of a table while the dance continues. Nicole spends the rest of the night glaring at Champ, still making out with Stephanie, staring sadly at Shae, and watching the clock on the far wall slowly move closer and closer to 9:30. Wynonna finds her a few songs before the dance is over, frowning at her, and then at Shae.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nicole grumbles.

Wynonna snorts. “Really? Because your girlfriend is sitting over there staring at you like you just unspooled her favorite tape, and you’re here like Waverly dumped you all over again.”

Nicole stands up so quickly, the chair she’s sitting on slides across the floor with a hard scraping sound. “I said,  _ nothing _ ,” she growls.

Wynonna takes a step back, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down. “What’s your beef?”

“What’s  _ yours _ ? Nicole fires back.

“You know what?” Wynonna starts.

Doc steps in, his hands out in front of him. “Ladies? Mrs. McCready is outside, if you’d like to go.”

“Perfect,” Wynonna says sharply.

“Perfect,” Nicole echoes absently as Shae stands up and steps close to Doc’s side. 

Gus’s station wagon is idling on the curb, her running lights running and the radio playing softly through the open window. 

“Wynonna. Nicole,” she says sharply. “Let’s go, girl. I’m missing  _ Wheel of Fortune _ .”

Nicole walks to the car blindly, her boots slapping heavily against the pavement as she walks stiffly behind Wynonna. She can feel Shae somewhere behind her, close to Doc’s side and far away from her. She rounds the back of the car before she realizes she doesn’t have to sit in the hatch on the way home. By the time she walks to the back seat door, Wynonna is in the front next to Gus, Doc is sitting against one window, and Shae is already in the middle of the bench, eyes straight ahead and her arms crossed over her chest.

“How was the dance?” Gus asks as she pulls off the curb.

“Totally killer,” Wynonna says flatly, glancing back over her shoulder at Nicole. “I’ll never forget this night as long as I live.”

Gus turns to stare at Wynonna, her face lit up by the streetlights they drive under. “Are you kids okay?”

“Peachy keen,” Wynonna mutters. “Right, Nicole?"

“Right,” Nicole breathes out, her hands curled into fists in her lap.

Gus looks in the rearview mirror, catching Nicole’s eye. “Right,” she echoes.

When she pulls onto Doc and Shae’s street, she slows down in front of Shae’s house.

“Thank you, Mrs. McCready,” Shae says politely, already nudging Doc to open the door.

“I do appreciate the hospitality,” Doc echoes. He gets out, winking at Wynonna through the passenger window.

“Shae,” Nicole says quietly.

Shae ignores her, sliding out of the backseat after Doc.

“You okay, girl?” Gus asks Nicole as Shae walks up her driveway, not looking back over her shoulder.

“Sure,” Nicole says. She lays across the back seat, stretching out until her head touches one door and her boots are up against the other. “I just don’t feel good.”

Gus backs out of the driveway, and Nicole assumes Shae must be in the house by now, hating her. “Well, when we get home, I’ll see if Waverly can put together some of that tea she makes.”

The idea of  _ Waverly _ turns her stomach until she really is nauseous. “No,” she says quickly. “Can you… Can you just drive me home?”

Wynonna turns in the front seat, peering over the headrest and staring down at her. “What  _ happened _ ? You were supposed to spend the night, but you and-”

“Nothing,” Nicole lies. “I just want to go home.”

“Then that’s where you’ll go,” Gus says kindly. “Leave the girl alone, Wynonna. And turn around.”

Wynonna turns back to the windshield, muttering about Nicole lying down when she should be sitting up. 

_ I’m never going to another dance again _ , she decides.

Nicole licks her lips and tastes Carmex -  _ Shae -  _ and closes her eyes so the streetlights don’t look like disco balls skipping across the gymnasium floor.

 

-

“Nothing yet?” Wynonna asks as she pulls up next to her, using the soles of her shoes to stop her bike. 

It makes Nicole wince, usually, but she barely registers the sound now as she stares up at the Pressman house, scanning the windows for any sign of Shae.

“No,” Nicole says wearily. “It’s not even like I can talk to her in class, either, because we’re in different grades, and she went back to sitting with her friends from her biology class at lunch.”

Wynonna is quiet for a minute. “Are you going to tell me why you two aren’t talking?” she finally asks.

Nicole glances briefly over her shoulder. “I told you.”

“You told me she got mad that you wanted to get into a fight at the Valentine’s Day Dance,” Wynonna says slowly. “But that’s not the whole truth.”

“It’s enough of it,” Nicole mumbles to herself. She straightens up a little as something in the top right window - Shae’s room - flutters. She sags back down when nothing else happens. “Come on,” she says, turning her Foiler around and pedaling back down the street, towards Main Street.

Her Hitachi stays silent in the basket on her handlebars, just like it has for the last 27 days. She hasn’t turned it on since the morning of the Valentine’s Day Dance. It’s almost the end of March, nearly a whole month of the silent treatment from Shae, but Nicole keeps riding by her house and pulling up next to the mailbox just to see.

“I just don’t get it,” Wynonna says for the hundredth time.

Nicole sighs. “Can you leave it alone, Wynonna?”

Wynonna pedals a few meters in silence. “I know you keep asking me to, but-”

“So be a good best friend and  _ listen _ to me,” Nicole begs.

“I just don’t like that you’re so depressed,” Wynonna says over her. “You won’t even listen to music while we ride!”

It’s because Shae’s copy of  _ Vital Signs _ is still in the deck, and she can’t take it out, but she can’t press play either.

Nicole shrugs a shoulder and keeps pedaling, taking the turn onto Main Street and up onto the sidewalk. She parks her bike next to her brother’s, spotting him easily in the booth right in front of the big window with the neon tomato. He’s got his arm around Hetty Tate’s shoulders, laughing at Perry Crofte.

Wynonna pushes through the door, breathing in deeply. The place is packed. It’s right around noon, and the morning hockey game just let out, so half of the tables are filled with kids from high school and a few from the 8th grade. Wynonna looks around before she finds Doc in a corner booth, already talking to Mercedes Gardner and Xavier Dolls about something. She grabs Nicole’s arm and pulls her in their direction.

Nicole trips over her own feet as Waverly comes out of the swinging kitchen door, her pad and her pen in her hand as she reads an order to herself. 

It’s been over a month of the silent treatment from Waverly, and Nicole still isn’t used to it. 

Her first instinct is to go over to Waverly and convince Waverly to pour her two glasses of Orange Crush. She wants to go over and tell Waverly that it doesn’t matter, and they can be friends now because Shae is probably never going to talk to her ever again; that she’ll never find anyone like Waverly or Shae, and she’s done trying.

Instead, she ducks her head and follows Wynonna to their booth and slips in next to Dolls and grabs a menu.

Wynonna stares at her. “You need a  _ menu _ ?”

Nicole scowls. “Maybe I want something different.”

“Sister Christian” comes on the jukebox and it pulls Wynonna’s interest away. Nicole props her menu up in front of her face, eyes just over the top as she watches Waverly move table to table, smiling and waving.

“Well, I’ll be,” Doc says quietly.

Nicole looks up. “What?”

Wynonna is scowling at Doc. “Nothing,” she says to Nicole, eyes on Doc.

Mercedes rolls her eyes and leans forward. “Shae is here,” she says. She leans back in her seat. “Honestly. It’s not like they’re going to go all Karate Champ in the middle of the dining room.”

_ Shae is here _ , Nicole thinks.

She looks around and see Shae standing in the doorway of The Patch, scanning the booths and tables for someone. She can feel her body rising, but she forces herself to stay in her seat.  _ What if Shae isn’t looking for me _ .

Waverly walks by, her attention on the tray in her hand, but Shae notices her. Her eyes narrow as she tracks Waverly moving through the tables easily, dropping off a water at Table 14 and two sodas at Booth 12. Nicole watches Shae watch Waverly and feels like her heart is cracking in her chest. 

She locks eyes with Shae and swallows heavily.

Shae weaves through the Sunday afternoon crowd, waving a hand at a table of kids Nicole doesn’t really recognize, but not stopping to say hi. She comes up to the booth they’re sitting in, resting her hand on the table.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” Nicole echoes.

“Hi,” Wynonna chimes in.

Nicole glares at her for a second. She looks back up at Shae, her palms sweating. “Hi.”

“You said that already,” Shae says, something like a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Nicole says quickly. “Yes.”

Shae definitely smiles now. “Maybe not here?”

“Oh,” Nicole says. “Right.” She stands up, nearly knocking her menu to the ground.

Shae looks down at the menu. “You need a menu?”

“That’s what  _ I _ said,” Wynonna says. She slides it across the tabletop and tucks it behind the ketchup bottle. “Like you don’t know the whole menu,” she grumbles.

Nicole ignores Wynonna, moving out of the booth. “Where do you want to…”

Shae shrugs a shoulder. “Outside?”

Nicole nods quickly. She looks back over her shoulder at Wynonna. “Get me a-”

“Orange Crush, cheeseburger no pickles, and fries,” Wynonna recites. She rolls her eyes. “Doy.”

Nicole slides past Shae, careful not to let their bodies touch as she moves. She can hear Shae behind her, her sneakers against the linoleum. As she reaches the door, Waverly is dropping a check off at Nathan’s table. Her eyes linger on Nicole before she sees Shae over Nicole’s shoulder.

Her eyes harden and she turns away from Nicole, smiling brightly at Nathan.

The bell above the door jingles loudly.

It’s March, but the sun is getting warmer and the snow is starting to melt on the sidewalks. Shae’s hand brushes hers as they walk and Nicole almost reaches out to lace their fingers together, but stops herself and forces her hand into the front pocket of her jeans and moves towards the road. They slow down as they pass Mattie’s, and Nicole points to the bench in front of the post office.

Shae nods and they walk silently towards it, a meter apart with their hands in their pockets.

Nicole sits down and kicks at the muddy snow beneath it, looking up and down Main Street and trying to gather her nerve. She thinks of all the things she wants to say:  _ I’m sorry, you were right, I can’t listen to “Can’t Fight This Feeling” and not think of you _ .

“Did you read the newest  _ Rolling Stone _ ?” Shae finally asks.

Nicole shakes her head wordlessly. 

“Bruce Willis is on the cover.”

“My mom likes him in  _ Moonlighting _ ,” Nicole offers.

The voice in her head is screaming at her to stop being a putt and apologize; slide Shae the mixtape she’s carrying in her pocket, the one with “Ain’t No Sunshine” on it, because she knows Shae actually likes Bill Withers; kiss her in the middle of Main Street like the end of a movie; and go back to The Patch and split an Orange Crush. 

“I’m moving,” Shae says abruptly.

Nicole blinks. “Wh-what?”

“Not now,” Shae continues. “After the school year, though. My dad got a promotion, but it’s in Manitoba.” Shae shrugs a shoulder. “He promised me we could stay through the end of the school year, and we’ll move at the start of the summer.”

The mixtape in her pocket starts to burn.

“But, what about-”

“Us?” Shae asks. She laughs lightly, but it doesn’t sound funny. “We haven’t talked in a month, you know.”

Nicole knows. She’s been counting the days.

“Manitoba is, like, a whole day away,” Shae continues. “Dad said I could be in charge of the music, but we’ll be listening to The Bee Gees by the time we get to Edmonton.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s really far away,” Nicole says uselessly.

Shae tips her head to the side and studies Nicole. “I know.”

Nicole takes a deep breath. She pats the mixtape reassuringly and gives Shae a hopeful smile. “We can do long distance?” 

“I think we should break up,” Shae says at the same time. 

Nicole’s mouth drops open. “Wh-what?”

Shae frowns at her. “Nicole,” she warns.

Nicole turns on the bench, tucking one leg under her body and not caring if the wet sole of her boot soaks into the denim of her jeans. “I can come out there for the summer and hang out with you, and then just come back when the school year starts.” She sits up a little, her hands shaking. “I’ll convince my mom to put a telephone in my room, and that way we can talk all the time.”

“And what? You’d leave Wynonna behind?” Shae pauses. “You’d leave  _ Waverly _ ?”

Nicole hesitates, and Shae notices. “Waverly isn’t even talking to me,” Nicole says firmly, pressing on. “And Wynonna wants to leave Purgatory. She thinks I don’t know, but I do. One day, she’ll just leave me behind here so it’ll be fine.”

Shae smiles sadly and reaches out, resting her hand just above Nicole’s knee. “Nicole.”

Nicole shakes her head. “No. You don’t understand. I… I  _ can’t fight this feeling anymore _ ,” she breathes out.

Shae’s nose wrinkles. “What’s Waverly’s song?” She immediately shakes her head. “No, don’t tell me.”

Nicole slides forward on the bench. “Shae, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we got into a stupid fight about Waverly, and I’m sorry that things were so weird after she found out about us, and I’m sorry I never told her in the first place, and-”

Shae puts her hands up. “Woah, woah. I’m not mad about any of those things,” she says slowly. “You don’t have to explain to me why you didn’t tell someone about us. And you don’t need to apologize for her being weird about us dating.”

Nicole frowns. “But you were mad at the dance.”

“I was mad because I finally realized that you could be in the middle of kissing me and still be thinking about her,” Shae says.

“That’s not-”

“I’ll be mad if you lie to me about it, too,” Shae says quietly, her hand back on Nicole’s knee.

Nicole closes her mouth and picks at a chip on the wooden bench. Her fingers ache and she wants to scratch at the scarred skin of her thumb, but she won’t. “I really like you,” she says. 

I really like you, too,” Shae says. “But I think you  _ love _ Waverly.”

Nicole stares back down Main Street, looking at the soft neon lights of The Patch reflecting off the shiny chrome bikes racked up outside.

“You make me feel like ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’,” Nicole says softly.

Shae’s hand twitches where it’s resting on Nicole’s leg. “And what does Waverly make you feel like?” 

Nicole looks back at Shae and swallows heavily. “Like ‘Love Walks In’.”

Shae smiles sadly and pulls her hand into her own lap. “I thought so.”

They sit in silence for a little longer, Nicole counting the number of cars driving by. She wonders if they know, if they can see the small crack forming in her chest, running down her left side and into her ribs. She wonders if they can see the way the music is dying between them.

The mixtape in her pocket is a weight, dragging her down.

“You know, for what it’s worth,” Shae says quietly after a minute. “I think you should tell Waverly how you feel.”

“Maybe,” Nicole lies. 

Shae doesn’t believe her. She snorts and runs a hand through her hair. Nicole watches the strands tangle around Shae’s fingers and remembers sliding her own fingers through Shae’s hair and kissing and Carmex and Orange Crush and ice rinks.

“It’s okay,” Shae murmurs, her thumb brushing against Nicole’s cheek softly. “I’m not mad at you.”

Nicole shakes her head. “Shae…”

“I’m going to find the right girl for me,” Shae says confidently. “You already found yours.”

“She doesn’t like me like that,” Nicole says, her voice strained.

Shae scoffs. “Just remember what I said,” she continues. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m not,” Nicole insists.

“And that’s what makes it true,” Shae says. She stands up, taking a deep breath.

Nicole feels the corners of her eyes start to burn, and she blinks hard to keep the tears away.

Shae’s face blurs as she moves closer and then her lips brush against Nicole’s cheekbone - once and softly. “Goodbye, Nicole Haught,” she whispers.

Nicole watches her turn and walk back down the sidewalk, her shoulders straight and her chin high. 

Curtis said that love feels like hearing the right song at the right time while the right girl smiles at you.

But he never said anything about  _ this _ feeling, about the girl who’s probably right at the wrong time.

He never said anything about when she leaves. 

 

-

So she makes a mixtape.

First, she throws the ‘I’m A Putt, Forgive Me’ mixtape she made Shae under her bed with all the tapes her dad gave her before he left, and then she makes another one.

She calls it ‘The Break Up Tape’ and she painstakingly puts it together until it flows from one song to the next. It’s all songs from The Smiths, and she probably should have just bought  _ The Smiths _ and  _ Meat is Murder _ at Mattie’s, but she wanted to make the tape herself.

She  _ deserved _ to make it.

She starts it with “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now,” ends it with “What Difference Does It Make?” and throws “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” somewhere in the middle. 

She goes back into The Patch and tells Wynonna she’s going home, Shae isn’t coming back, and everything is awful.

She goes to school every day until Friday, hiding in the corners of the hallways she shares with Shae, and sitting at the furthest table in the lunchroom. Wynonna frowns at her on Monday, but doesn’t say anything about it on Tuesday. By Wednesday, the whole table is back together - Doc and Mercedes and Wynonna all talking about music, and Nathan, for some reason - and no one asks where Shae is or why Nicole doesn’t finish her whole can of Orange Crush. 

It’s like nothing ever happened.

_ But everything has happened _ , Nicole thinks.

Her Walkman is at the bottom of her backpack, and she left her Hitachi on the kitchen counter. Riding around with it made her sick to her stomach, and she figures if she lets it sit there long enough, Nathan will find the Survivor tape and steal it from her. Shae hasn’t asked for it back, but Nicole can’t find it in herself to get rid of it on her own. 

She doesn’t go to The Patch after school, either. She tries to, on Monday, but someone puts “What About Love?” on the jukebox, and Waverly is waiting on the table closest to the door. Nicole panics and backs up, yelling at Wynonna that she’ll just see her in the morning. She goes home and makes a ‘What’s The Point’ mixtape and listens to it until her mom calls her down for dinner. 

By Friday, she can’t make herself get out of bed. She lets her mom check her temperature and tuck her hair behind her ears and fluff her pillows.

Her mom runs a hand down Nicole’s cheek. “You don’t have a fever, baby.”

Nicole turns her head into the pillow, closing her eyes. “It hurts on the inside.”

“Oh,” her mom says. “Does it have anything to do with Shae?”

Nicole’s eyes snap open. “What?”

“You’re usually ‘Shae this’ and ‘Shae that’,” her mom says. “But lately, you’ve been…  _ quiet _ .” She frowns. “Actually,  _ everything _ has been quiet. I don’t think I’ve heard you fighting with Nathan to play music in the living room all week.”

Nicole shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

Her mom waits, but Nicole doesn’t say anything. She pulls the covers higher, up around her ears.

Her mom sighs. “You call me if you need anything,” she says. “And there’s chicken soup in the pantry, okay? And some of those potatoes and onions you like in the refrigerator. I’m working half of Cathy Rippon’s shift, so I won’t be home until 9 o’clock.” Her mom hesitates, still sitting on the edge of her bed. “Maybe I should stay home, though.”

“No,” Nicole rasps. “I’m fine.”

“Honey,” her mom says softly. “Heartbreak isn’t-”

“I’m not heartbroken,” Nicole insists. “I just… don’t feel good.”

Her mom is quiet for a long moment. “Okay, baby. If you’re sure.”

Nicole nods. “I’m sure.”

She spends the whole day in bed, only getting out to start her mixtape over. The back kitchen door opens in the late afternoon, and Nicole doesn’t move. It’s just Nathan getting home from school.

Someone knocks at her door, and Nicole frowns. 

_ Nathan would just barge in _ , she thinks.  _ And someone robbing us wouldn’t knock _ .

The door opens slowly, and Waverly pokes her head inside the room.

Nicole sits up, the covers pooling around her waist. She’s hyper-aware of the way her hair is sticking up in all directions and how she’s worn the same shirt since Wednesday night and the fact that The Smiths are chanting “ _ I need advice, I need advice _ .”

“Hi,” Waverly says softly. 

“What’re you doing here?” Nicole asks. The words stick in her throat and her voice sounds funny after not talking for so long. 

A frown passes over Waverly’s face. “Wynonna said you weren’t in school today,” she says, pushing the door open a little more. She steps into the room, her backpack on one shoulder. She’s wearing black leggings and an oversized red sweater with hearts on it.

Nicole’s stomach twists - the Valentine’s Day Dance.

“I’m sick,” she says a moment later.

Waverly looks her up and down. “Are you contagious?”

Nicole scratches at the back of her neck. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you have a fever, or you’re sneezing or coughing, you’re contagious,” Waverly explains. 

Nicole shrugs. She’s doesn’t have a fever or a cough or a running nose; she just has a broken heart.

Waverly steps a little closer. “Then I can come closer?” she asks, looking at the edge of Nicole’s bed.

“Miserable Lie” ends and “Still Ill” comes on.

“ _ I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving. England is mine, and it owes me a living. Ask me why and I'll spit in your eye _ ,” Morrissey sings. 

Nicole winces as he goes on. 

“ _ But we cannot cling to the old dreams anymore. No we cannot cling to those dreams. _ ”

Waverly frowns. “This is…  _ bad _ ,” she breathes out. “What is this?”

Nicole kicks the covers further down the bed, scratching at her bare knees. “It’s The Smiths.”

“Oh,” Waverly says. “Does Shae listen to this kind of music?”

It didn’t hurt, earlier, when her mom said  _ Shae _ . The pain of hearing her name from Waverly’s mouth hurts, though, and the flash of pain in her chest flares hot and bright, catching her off guard. She looks away, her eyes burning again.

“No,” she finally manages.

Waverly sighs heavily and sits down on the edge of Nicole’s bed. Nicole’s body pitches to the side, following the weight shift. She steadies herself and scoots back, away from Waverly. Waverly doesn’t notice, picking at the fabric of Nicole’s comforter.

“I’m sorry,” Waverly finally breathes out. “Wynonna told me about what happened with Shae, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

The pain in Nicole’s chest is overtaken by a rush of anger. “She shouldn’t have said anything,” Nicole says.

Waverly’s head snaps up. “How else am I going to find out?” 

“Why do you care?” Nicole fires back.

It hurts too much right now for Waverly to be sticking a pencil in her and unspooling her like a cassette tape. 

Waverly pulls back slightly, her eyes wide. “I  _ care _ ,” she whispers. “Of course I care.”

Nicole shrugs a shoulder and looks away. “I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“Why?” Waverly asks, her voice high and stretched out.

Nicole kicks the covers off completely, the heavy fabric suffocating, even if it’s only covering her ankles. “Listen, I know you hate me, but why’re you here?”

Waverly’s mouth drops open. “I… I hate you?”

Nicole swings her legs around, letting them dangle on the opposite side of the bed. She can feel Waverly staring at the back of her head and she pushes up, standing and looking out her bedroom windows for a moment. “I get it, okay?” she says hoarsely. “You think I’m…  _ disgusting _ , or whatever. You hate me. It’s fine. But I thought we were just going to ignore each other for the rest of our lives, and I’m fine with that.” She looks back over her shoulder. “Honest. It’s totally fine. So, don’t act like you care, okay? I get it.”

Waverly blinks a few times. “Are you… are you mental?”

Nicole spins around, some hair catching in her mouth. “ _ Me?” _

“Yes, you,” Waverly says. She drops her backpack on the floor, crossing her arms over her chest. “I came over to see if you were okay, and you’re accusing me of hating you?”

“You do!”

“I don’t!”

Nicole can feel her chest rising and falling like she just sprinted across the parking lot playing Red Rover during recess in middle school. “What?”

Waverly sighs and throws her arms into the air. “I don’t hate you,” she repeats, her voice softer.

Nicole frowns. “But that day, at Mattie’s…”

“I was  _ mad _ ,” Waverly says.”But I didn’t hate you.”

“You wouldn’t talk to me the next day,” Nicole says.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “You were avoiding me.” She kicks at Nicole’s bedroom floor. “And then I got mad about that, too.”

Nicole scrubs her hand down over her face. “But you found out I had a-a…” Her mouth stumbles over the words. “A girlfriend, and you got mad.”

Waverly opens her mouth and pauses. She toes off her shoes and kicks them towards Nicole’s bedroom door.

Nicole frowns, watching Waverly pull at the covers of her bed, yanking them up to the pillows and smoothing them out. She sits down on the side she’s closest to, stretching her legs out. She looks up at Nicole and pats the empty space next to her.

Nicole hesitates. 

“Please come sit down,” Waverly says.

Nicole smooths a hand down her white shirt and takes a deep breath, sitting down. She slowly stretches her legs out next to Waverly’s.

She’s holding her breath, too nervous after being so far away from Waverly for so long. Her body wants to slide closer, to feel Waverly’s leg against hers or Waverly’s hair against her shoulder. But the part of her that hurts when Van Halen comes on the car radio or when the phone rings and it’s not Waverly on the other end of the line keeps her on the other edge of the bed, her hands in her lap.

Waverly reaches for her hands.

Nicole flinches and Waverly pauses, looking up at Nicole and smiling hopefully. It takes a second, but Nicole nods, just a little, and Waverly pulls Nicole’s hands into her lap, turning them over and running her fingers across the scars left behind after the last time she cleaned them.

“I said I wouldn’t pick them,” she mutters.

“I’m just checking,” Waverly says quietly. 

“Well I Wonder” comes on, and Nicole wishes she had the strength to get up and turn it off.

_ “Well, I wonder, do you hear me when you sleep? I hoarsely cry.” _

Waverly’s hands move across hers, and something knotted deep down in Nicole’s chest starts to unwind. Her body slides to the left a little, her hip against Waverly’s.

She just can’t get up and go change the song right now; not when she feels like she can finally start to breathe again. 

“I don’t hate you,” Waverly says.

Nicole’s hand twitches in Waverly’s.

“I don’t,” Waverly repeats. “I don’t hate you for having a girlfriend.”

Nicole looks up, searching Waverly’s eyes. “You don’t?”

Waverly shakes her head slowly. “No,” she says firmly. “I’m still mad at you,” she adds.

Nicole’s shoulders sag. “For having a girlfriend.”

Waverly sighs and turns, tucking her legs under her body and her thigh against Nicole’s side. “ _ No _ ,” she breathes out. “I don’t care if you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend or a  _ cat _ .”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “You hate cats.”

“I don’t hate  _ you,” _ Waverly says firmly.

“But you’re mad at me,” Nicole says.

“For  _ not telling me _ you had a girlfriend,” Waverly explains. Her eyes flash with something Nicole doesn’t recognize. “I walked into Mattie’s, and you were with this girl that I didn’t even know, and she was  _ touching _ you, and her tongue was  _ practically _ in your mouth,” Waverly says, squeezing Nicole’s hand a little tighter with every world. “And you won’t even let  _ me _ hold your hand, but she was holding yours, and you were smiling, and you haven’t smiled that  _ that _ since before Curtis, and-”

Nicole flinches. “My hand.”

Waverly looks down and lets go of Nicole’s hand, still cradling it gently. “Sorry,” she mumbles. She sighs. “I was mad you didn’t tell me you liked girls. I was mad you didn’t tell me you liked a girl enough to let her hold your hand.”

_ I like you enough _ , Nicole thinks. 

“And I’m still mad at you,” Waverly continues. “For ignoring me and not coming to The Patch and not letting me help you pick out clothes for the dance. Your shirt was grody,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“It was Nathan’s,” Nicole says defensively. 

“I could tell,” Waverly muttered. She huffs. “I was  _ mad _ . We’re friends. We tell each other things. That’s what’s so great about us being friends.”

Nicole thinks, just for a fleeting second, that she could lean in and kiss Waverly right now. The Smiths mixtape has finally gone quiet, “What Difference Does It Make?” slipping past them without Nicole even noticing. The afternoon sun is peeking through Nicole’s windows, and it’s not fall and there’s no pom poms but, something in her chest beats to the rhythm of “Love Walks In.”

“And then you  _ didn’t _ tell me about Shae, and I thought…” Waverly shrugs. “I thought you didn’t want me to know.”

_ I didn’t _ , Nicole thinks.

“I did,” Nicole says.

Waverly narrows her eyes.

“I did,” Nicole insists, the words hard to push out of her mouth. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“How did you tell me you ripped my favorite leg warmers last year?” 

“I made Wynonna do it,” Nicole says. She shrugs when Waverly glares at her. “I was afraid you were going to think I’m weird, or whatever.”

“I do think you’re weird,” Waverly says. “But not because you like girls.”

Nicole frowns at her. “Then why?”

“I have a list at home,” Waverly says dismissively. She trails a finger up Nicole’s hand, over her wrist, and up the length of her arm, stopping just below the haphazard roll of Nicole’s shirt sleeve. “You’re not really sick, are you?”

Nicole shakes her head.

“Will you come over tonight? Gus is worried about you.” Waverly snorts. “She’s asking Wynonna so many questions that last night, Wynonna handed Gus the phone and told her to call and ask you herself.”

Nicole snorts.

“And I miss you,” Waverly says softly.

Nicole turns and presses her face into Waverly’s shoulder, trying to hide the flush on her face.

“Champ was making out with Stephanie at the dance,” she whispers. She slides down the bed and lays her head down on her pillow.

Waverly shimmies down until her head is resting on the pillow next to Nicole’s. “I know,” she whispers back.

Nicole’s eyes widen. “How?”  _ Champ couldn’t have told her _ , she thinks.

Waverly hesitates. “Shae told me, actually,” she says after a minute. “She said you wanted to beat him up.”

“She did?” Nicole asks. It doesn’t make any sense to her.

Waverly nods. “She said it was important to you that I know, but then Wynonna said you didn’t feel good after the dance, and you never called to tell me, so…”

“I wanted to,” Nicole promises. “Shae and I got into a fight, and-”

Waverly puts her hand on Nicole’s arm. “It’s okay. But… I broke up with him.”

That knot finally fades into nothingness, and the sudden lack of pressure takes her breath away.

“Yeah?” she asks quietly.

“Yes,” Waverly breathes out. “He’s a total putt.”

“I thought you thought he was a bohunk.”

Waverly scoffs. “As if.” She smiles at Nicole, leaning forward until her forehead rests against Nicole’s. “I’d rather spend time with you anyway.”

Nicole tries not to move or even breathe.

“I don’t think I’d ever go out with him again,” Waverly continues. “Unless, like, I’m… I don’t know. Trying to make someone jealous.” Waverly laughs. “But that would be ridiculous, right?”

Nicole nods slowly.

Waverly’s smile fades and her eyes grow serious. “I’m still mad.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Nicole promises.

Waverly seems to think about it for a moment before she smiles. “We have to listen to more Madonna. You need her in your life.”

_ I need you, _ Nicole thinks.

“No, I don’t,” Nicole insists. “I can only take so much of that.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and then sits up. Nicole leans back, confused, as Waverly reaches down off the bed and picks her backpack up.

“I don’t know if breakups are different for girls who break up with girls,” Waverly starts. “Or if it’s the same as breaking up with a boy, but I brought you stuff.” She unzips her backpack and pulls out a few  _ Rolling Stone _ magazines, a can of Orange Crush, and a bag of Cheezies. Waverly opens the can of soda and hands it to Nicole as she sits up.

“You brought me stuff,” Nicole repeats dumbly.

“I’m mad at you,” Waverly says again. “But I don’t want you to sit alone in your room and listen to really sad music, when I could be reading  _ Rolling Stone  _ to you and making you feel better.”

“You’re already helping,” Nicole says quietly.

Waverly spreads the magazines out on Nicole’s bedspread. “We missed  _ five _ issues of  _ Rolling Stone _ .”

Nicole picks up the cover of Stevie Wonder. “This one just came out today.”

Waverly rolls her eyes. “So we missed four, then.” She nods at the rest of them. “Should we start with the first one and work our way to Stevie Wonder?”

“Yes,” Nicole says decisively. She wiggles back down so that her head is on her pillow.

Waverly grabs the February 13th issue and flips it open to the cover article. She waits until Nicole is settled, and then she drops one hand to the top of Nicole’s head. She brushes some loose strands back and threads her fingers into Nicole’s hair as she starts to read.

“At last, rock & roll — the sound heard round the world for three decades — has its own hall of fame,” Waverly reads. “Rock history is full of innovators, superstars, and unsung heroes who transformed this primitive, propulsive, devil music into a force for major cultural and social change. Now the establishment of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the induction this year of its first ten members enables fans, musicians, and the music industry to pay formal tribute for the first time to rock's pioneer artists and their historic achievements. Rock & roll is a living art, one that is refined and reinvented every day in big arenas, tiny clubs, sophisticated studios, and cold, damp garages all over the world.”

Nicole feels her eyes fluttering closed as Waverly’s hand moves through her hair and her voice rises and falls gently. 

Shae was right; Nicole already has the right girl. She just needs to wait for the right time.


End file.
